SONG V. AS near a weeping spring reclin'd The beauteous ARAMINTA pin'd, And mourn'd a false ungrateful youth; While dying echoes caught the sound, And spread the soft complaints around Of broken vows and alter'd truth; An aged shepherd heard her moan, And thus in pity's kindest tone Address'd the lost despairing maid: Cease, cease unhappy fair to grieve, For sounds, tho' sweet, can ne'er relieve A breaking heart by love betray'd. Why shouldst thou waste such precious showers, That fall like dew on wither'd flowers, But dying passion ne'er restor'd? In beauty's empire is no mean, And woman, either slave or queen, Is quickly scorn'd when not ador'd. Those liquid pearls from either eye, Which might an eastern empire buy, Unvalued here and fruitless fall; No art the season can renew When love was young, and DAMON true; No tears a wandering heart recall. Cease, cease to grieve, thy tears are vain, Should those fair orbs in drops of rain Vie with a weeping southern sky: For hearts o'ercome with love and grief All nature yields but one relief; Die, hapless ARAMINTA, die.