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NIMBLE sigh, on thy warm wings, Take this message and depart ; Tell Amoret, that smiles and sings, At what thy airy voyage brings, That thou cam'st lately from my heart. Tell my lovely foe that I Have no more such spies to send, But one or two that I intend, Some few minutes ere I die, To her white bosom to commend. Then whisper by that holy spring, Where for her sake I would have died, Whilst those water-nymphs did bring Flowers to cure what she had tried ; And of my faith and love did sing. That if my Amoret, if she In after-times would have it read, How her beauty murder'd me, With all my heart I will agree, If she'll but love me, being dead.
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