TESTO DEL LIED

"Stay, gentle Echo"
di anonimo

Stay, gentle Echo, dear Nymph, stay,
With love's sad language thou can'st play;
The last of my discourse retort,
Love, once thy grief, is now thy sport.
Echo: Thy sport.
My sport, fair nymph? No, 'tis my pain
To love, and not find love again.
Echo: Again!
Cruel, thus to increase my care,
Is love a cordial for despair?
Echo: Or despair.
Love or despair! what dost thou mean,
Would'st have me suffer both again?
Echo: Both again.
And what reward shall I e're find?
Will fair Clarissa be still unkind?
Echo: Still unkind.
When Passion strains his voice most high,
Will she, like thee, farther fly?
Echo: Farther fly.
Shall I in vain my sighs repeat,
Since Cupid's grown so great a cheat?
Tell me, dear Echo, how I may
Chase this intruding guest away,
And break that bow, whose pow'r most strange,
Thy substance to a voice did change?
Echo: Change.
Ah no, my fate I cannot fly!
'Tis harder far to change than die.
Echo: Than die.
Ah! what, does this Echo say die?
Echo: Ah! die!
Is this the counsel I implore?
Hence, hence, bubbling air, I will no more.
Echo: I'll no more.
Be ill no more? That I believe,
He can't be ill that does not live.
When Titan's weary car once more
Has trac'd the spacious heav'ns o're,
Near to this happy fountain set,
I'll call thee with my flagelet:
Fail not to hast and know my will.
Echo: I will.