On the Death of Mr. Pelham Humfries

Did you not hear the hideous groan,
The shrieks, and heavy moan
That spread themselves o'er all the pensive plain;
And rent the breast of many a tender swain?
'Twas for Amintas, dead and gone.
Sing, ye forsaken shepherds, sing His praise
In careless melancholy lays,
Lend Him a little doleful breath:
Poor Amintas! cruel Death!
'Twas Thou couldst make dead words to live,
Thou that dull numbers couldst inspire
With charming voice and tuneful lyre,
That life to all, but to Thyself, couldst give;
Why couldst Thou not Thy wondrous art bequeath?
Poor Amintas! cruel Death!
Sing, pious shepherds, while you may,
Before th' approaches of the Fatal Day:
For you yourselves that sing this mournful song,
Alas! ere it be long,
Shall, like Amintas, breathless be,
Though more forgotten in the grave than He.