Amarillis tear thy hair

Amarillis tear thy hair,

Beat thy breast, sigh, weep, despair.

Cry, cry "Ay me, is Daphnis dead?"

I see a paleness on his brow

And his cheeks are drowned in snow.

Whither are those roses fled?

"O my heart, how cold he's grown;

Sure his lips are turned to stone.

Thus then I offer up my blood,

And bathe my body in his shroud.

Since living accents cannot move,

Know Amarillis died for love."