Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose | ||
64
Song.
[Grief, thou hast master'd me at length]
Grief, thou hast master'd me at length,
O'erwhelm'd my heart, and stopp'd my ears;
The spirits rais'd to feed my strength,
By thee diverted, flow in tears,
To cloud the morning's chearful light,
And poison ev'ry glass at night.
O'erwhelm'd my heart, and stopp'd my ears;
The spirits rais'd to feed my strength,
By thee diverted, flow in tears,
To cloud the morning's chearful light,
And poison ev'ry glass at night.
Yet sure, the gentle, happy Dead
Can ne'er approve her lover's pain:
Do Souls, to their Elysium fled,
Long to be pent in clay again?
Or, will it add to joys above,
To view the Hell of hopeless love?
Can ne'er approve her lover's pain:
Do Souls, to their Elysium fled,
Long to be pent in clay again?
Or, will it add to joys above,
To view the Hell of hopeless love?
Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose | ||