 | Poems, Songs and Love-Verses |  |
A Song.
I have drank too much Lethe of late,
I've forgot that I e're was in Love,
I am Crown'd with a nobler Fate;
'Tis a passion that's too much above
That pittiful State
Which sometimes moves pitty, but oftener hate.
I've forgot that I e're was in Love,
I am Crown'd with a nobler Fate;
'Tis a passion that's too much above
That pittiful State
Which sometimes moves pitty, but oftener hate.
The sad looks of a Lover in pain,
When my fancy descends to his Breast,
Makes me Smile when I think how in vain
He does so much disquiet his rest,
In thinking her best
Who in mocking his Love does think her self blest.
When my fancy descends to his Breast,
Makes me Smile when I think how in vain
He does so much disquiet his rest,
In thinking her best
Who in mocking his Love does think her self blest.
19
Such Whiners as these, at their leasure,
With an ang'ry glance from their Eye,
They quickly deject at their pleasure,
Who during their anger do dye;
Such is the measure
These predicant Fools do get from their Treasure.
With an ang'ry glance from their Eye,
They quickly deject at their pleasure,
Who during their anger do dye;
Such is the measure
These predicant Fools do get from their Treasure.
| Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | |