 | Sappho |  |
SCENE II.
LYCIDAS.
Agenor, stay! my heart releases Doris
From all her vows, so thou forgiv'st her crime.
He hears me not. Ah, lost, lost Lycidas!
And, if he heard thee, could'st thou yield the nymph
To impious Phaon? lov'd as thou hast been,
Canst thou, reflecting on that love, resign
That bliss to him, which should alone be thine?
From all her vows, so thou forgiv'st her crime.
He hears me not. Ah, lost, lost Lycidas!
And, if he heard thee, could'st thou yield the nymph
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Canst thou, reflecting on that love, resign
That bliss to him, which should alone be thine?
Ah! how the Hours, on golden plume,
Flew lightly o'er this fragrant shade,
Where, with my lovely Doris laid,
I cropt the rose, and woodbine's bloom,
To weave a garland for her head.
O cruel change! the tempests lour!
The roses droop, the woodbines fade!
Falsehood and Fraud have seiz'd the bower,
And robb'd me of my darling Maid!
Flew lightly o'er this fragrant shade,
Where, with my lovely Doris laid,
I cropt the rose, and woodbine's bloom,
To weave a garland for her head.
O cruel change! the tempests lour!
The roses droop, the woodbines fade!
Falsehood and Fraud have seiz'd the bower,
And robb'd me of my darling Maid!
| Sappho | |