With tenderness, she did my Sufferings hear, And even my Reproaches now cou’d bear: At last my trembling Hand in hers she took, And with a charming Blush, these Words she spoke: I. _Faithful_ Lisander, _I your Vows approve,_ _And can no longer hide._ _My Sense of all your suffering Love,_ _With the thin Veil of Pride._ II. _’.was long in Vain that Pity did assail,_ _My cold and stubborn Heart;_ _Ere on th’ insensible she cou’d prevail,_ _To render any Part._ III. _To her for all the tenderness,_ _Which in my Eyes you find,_ _You must your gratitude express,_ _’.is_ Pity _only makes me kind._ IV. _Live then_, Lisander, _since I must confess,_ _In spight of all my native modesty,_ _I cannot wish that you shou’d_ Love _me less;_ _Live then and hope the Circling Sun may see_ _In his swift course a grateful change in me,_ _And that in time your Passion may receive_ _All you dare take, and all a Maid may give._ Oh, _Lysidas_, I cannot here relate, The Sense of Joy she did in me create; The sudden Blessing overcame me so, It almost finisht, what Grief fail’d to do; I wanted Courage for the soft surprize, And waited re-enforcements from her Eyes: At last with Transports which I cou’d not hide, Raising my self from off the ground, I cry’d. The TRANSPORT. _Rejoyce! my new made happy Soul, Rejoyce!_ _Bless the dear minute, bless the Heav’nly voice,_ _That has revok’t thy fatal doom;_ _Rejoyce!_ Aminta _leads thee from the Tomb._ _Banish the anxious thoughts of dying hours,_ } _Forget the shades and melancholy Bow’rs,_ } _Thy Eyes so oft bedew’d with falling show’rs;_ } _Banish all Thoughts that do remain,_ } _Of Sighing Days and Nights of Pain,_ } _When on neglected Beds of Moss thou’st lain:_ } _Oh happy Youth!_ Aminta _bids thee live;_ _Thank not the sullen God’s or defer Stars,_ _Since from her Hand thou dost the Prize receive;_ _Hers be the Service, as the bounty hers;_ _For all that Life must dedicated be,_ _To the fair God-like Maid that gave it Thee._ Now, _Lysidas_, behold my happy State; Behold me Blest, behold me Fortunate, And from the height of languishing despair, Rais’d to the Glory of _Aminta’s_ care: And this one moment of my Heaven of Joy, Did the remembrance of past Griefs destroy: And _Pity_ ceas’d not here; but with new Eloquence, Obliges the shy Maid to visit _Confidence_. CONFIDENCE.