Song from the Italian (By a dismal cypress lying)

By a dismal cypress lying,
Damon cried, all pale and dying:
Kind is death, that ends my pain,
But cruel she I lov'd in vain.

The mossy fountains
Murmur my trouble,
And hollow mountains
My groans redouble:
Every nymph mourns me.
Thus while I languish,
She only scorns me,
Who caus'd my anguish,
No love returning me, but all hope denying.

By a dismal cypress lying,
Like a swan, so sung he dying:
Kind is death, that ends my pain,
But cruel she I lov'd in vain.