Songs in "The Conquest of Granada"

  I.
  Wherever I am, and whatever I do,
    My Phyllis is still in my mind;
  When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go,
    My feet, of themselves, the way find:
  Unknown to myself I am just at her door,
  And when I would rail, I can bring out no more,
    Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!
  When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast,
    And the love I would stifle is shown;
  But asleep or awake I am never at rest,
    When from my eyes Phyllis is gone.
  Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind;
  But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find,
    How I sigh to myself all alone!
  Should a king be my rival in her I adore,
    He should offer his treasure in vain:
  Oh, let me alone to be happy and poor,
    And give me my Phyllis again!
  Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind,
  I could to a desert with her be confined,
    And envy no monarch his reign.
  Alas! I discover too much of my love,
    And she too well knows her own power!
  She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove,
    And makes me grow jealous each hour:
  But let her each minute torment my poor mind,
  I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind,
    Than ever be freed from her power.
  II.
  HE.  How unhappy a lover am I,
           While I sigh for my Phyllis in vain:
         All my hopes of delight
         Are another man's right,
           Who is happy, while I am in pain!
  SHE. Since her honour allows no relief,
           But to pity the pains which you bear,
         'Tis the best of your fate,
         In a hopeless estate,
           To give o'er, and betimes to despair.

  HE.  I have tried the false medicine in vain;
           For I wish what I hope not to win:
         From without, my desire
         Has no food to its fire;
           But it burns and consumes me within.
  SHE. Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know
           That you are not unhappy alone:
         For the nymph you adore
         Is as wretched, and more;
           And counts all your sufferings her own.
  HE.  O ye gods, let me suffer for both;
           At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie:
         I'll resign up my breath,
         And take pleasure in death,
           To be pitied by her when I die.
  SHE. What her honour denied you in life,
           In her death she will give to your love.
         Such a flame as is true
         After fate will renew,
           For the souls to meet closer above.