Sonnet XIV. Mournful Amyntas, thou didst pine with care

William Smith (fl. 1596)

MOURNFUL AMYNTAS, thou didst pine with care,

Because the Fates, by their untimely doom,

Of life bereft thy loving PHILLIS fair;

When thy love’s Spring did first begin to bloom.

My care doth countervail that care of thine;

And yet my CHLORIS draws her angry breath:

My hopes, still hoping, hopeless now repine;

For living, She doth add to me but death.

Thy PHILLIS dying, lovèd thee full dear.

My CHLORIS living, hates poor CORIN’s love.

Thus doth my woe as great as thine appear;

Though sundry accents both our sorrows move.

Thy swan-like Song did shew thy dying anguish:

These weeping Truce-men shew I living languish.