 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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I
Why, Dearest, should'st thou weep, when I relateThe story of my wo?
Let not the swarthy Mists of my black Fate,
O'recast thy Beauty so,
For each rich Pearl lost on that score,
Adds to mischance, and wounds your Servant more.
II
Quench not those Stars, that to my bliss should Guide,Oh, spare that precious Tear!
Nor let those drops unto a deluge Tide,
To drown your Beauty there,
That cloud of Sorrow makes it Night,
You lose your Lustre, but the World its Light.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |