ODE V.
To
Artemisa.
I
I, in lonely Shades complaining,
Still must love, and must not tell;
You, o'er crouded Circles reigning,
Laugh at Love, or hide it well.
II
If, indeed, you never languish,
Tell me, how you shun the Dart;
If, like me, you feel the Anguish,
Teach me to conceal the Smart.
III
Say, what courtly Art in fashion
Hides the language of the Eyes?
Learn a simple Swain his Passion,
When offensive, to disguise.
IV
Or will Absence quite disarm her?
How shall Absence be endur'd?
Can I e'er forget the Charmer?
Can so deep a Wound be cur'd?
V
Absence yet is least offensive,
Since I cannot hide my Pain;
Then forgotten, pale, and pensive,
In these Shades I'll still complain.
VI
And, while she new Wonder raises,
And inslaves, where e'er she goes,
Here alone I'll sing her Praises,
Till some Pow'r shall end my Woes.