 | Claraphil and Clarinda |  |
The Departure.
By all thy Glories willingly I go,
Yet could have wish'd thee Constant in thy Love;
But since thou needs must prove
Uncertain, as is thy Beauty,
Or as the Glass, that shews it thee,
My Hopes thus soon to overthrow,
Shews thee more fickle, but my flames by this
Are easier, quench'd than his,
VVhom flattering smiles betray,
'Tis tyrannous delay
Breeds all this harm,
And makes that Fire consume, that should but warm.
Yet could have wish'd thee Constant in thy Love;
But since thou needs must prove
Uncertain, as is thy Beauty,
Or as the Glass, that shews it thee,
My Hopes thus soon to overthrow,
Shews thee more fickle, but my flames by this
Are easier, quench'd than his,
VVhom flattering smiles betray,
'Tis tyrannous delay
Breeds all this harm,
And makes that Fire consume, that should but warm.
Till Time destroys the Blossoms of thy Youth,
Thou art our Idol, worship'd at that Rate,
But who can tell thy Fate?
Or say that when thy Beauties gone,
Thy Lovers Torch will still burn on?
I could have serv'd thee with such truth
Devoutest Pilgrims to their Saints do ow,
Departed long ago;
And at thy ebbing Tide
Have us'd thee as a Bride,
Who's onely true
'Cause you are fair, he loves himself, not you.
Thou art our Idol, worship'd at that Rate,
But who can tell thy Fate?
Thy Lovers Torch will still burn on?
I could have serv'd thee with such truth
Devoutest Pilgrims to their Saints do ow,
Departed long ago;
And at thy ebbing Tide
Have us'd thee as a Bride,
Who's onely true
'Cause you are fair, he loves himself, not you.
T. G.
| Claraphil and Clarinda | |