 | The Land of Love |  |
The Desart of Remembrance.
A Solitude, upon a Mountain plac'd,
All gloomy round, but wond'rous high and vast;
From whence Love's Land does all appear in View,
And distant Prospects render near and true;
Each Bank, each Bow'r, each dear inviting Shade,
Which to our sacred Loves were conscious made;
Each flow'ry Bed, each Thicket, and each Grove,
Where I had lain charm'd with Aminta's Love;
Where-e'er she bless'd the Day, or chear'd the Night
Eternally are present to my Sight.
Where-e'er I turn, the Landskip does confess,
Something that calls to Mind pass'd Happiness,
Which does the Torments of my Mind increase.
Sad as the Grave I sit, by glimm'ring Light,
Such as attends departing Souls by Night;
Silent as Groves, where only whisp'ring Gales
Sigh softly thro' the trembling Leaves;
As softly as a bashful Shepherd breathes
To his lov'd Nymph his am'rous Tales.
So dull I am, Thought scarce does Subject find
To entertain my melancholly Mind.
All gloomy round, but wond'rous high and vast;
From whence Love's Land does all appear in View,
And distant Prospects render near and true;
Each Bank, each Bow'r, each dear inviting Shade,
Which to our sacred Loves were conscious made;
Each flow'ry Bed, each Thicket, and each Grove,
Where I had lain charm'd with Aminta's Love;
Where-e'er she bless'd the Day, or chear'd the Night
Eternally are present to my Sight.
Where-e'er I turn, the Landskip does confess,
Something that calls to Mind pass'd Happiness,
Which does the Torments of my Mind increase.
Sad as the Grave I sit, by glimm'ring Light,
Such as attends departing Souls by Night;
Silent as Groves, where only whisp'ring Gales
Sigh softly thro' the trembling Leaves;
As softly as a bashful Shepherd breathes
To his lov'd Nymph his am'rous Tales.
So dull I am, Thought scarce does Subject find
To entertain my melancholly Mind.
This, Lysidas, this is my wretched State;
'Tis here I languish, and attend my Fate.
But ere I go, 'twould wond'rous Pleasure be
(If any Joy can e'er arrive to me)
To find some Pity, Lysidas, from thee.
Then I should take the Wing, and upwards fly,
And lose the Sight of the dull World with Joy.
'Tis here I languish, and attend my Fate.
But ere I go, 'twould wond'rous Pleasure be
(If any Joy can e'er arrive to me)
To find some Pity, Lysidas, from thee.
Then I should take the Wing, and upwards fly,
And lose the Sight of the dull World with Joy.
| The Land of Love | |