 | Demetrius |  |
SCENE XVII.
Barsenealone.
And wherefore did I not continue silent?
Alas! I hop'd at least by my confession
Alcestes might have felt a kindred flame;
That little hope is now for ever lost,
Alcestes knows my passion, and contemns it.
Alas! I hop'd at least by my confession
Alcestes might have felt a kindred flame;
That little hope is now for ever lost,
Alcestes knows my passion, and contemns it.
While the harmless turtle-dove
Sees not where the danger lies,
To 'scape the falcon from above,
To the fowler's hand she flies.
Sees not where the danger lies,
To 'scape the falcon from above,
To the fowler's hand she flies.
Thus I, who sought to shun the pain
Of smother'd grief and love conceal'd,
Must every shame and woe sustain,
Which proffer'd love, refus'd, can yield.
Of smother'd grief and love conceal'd,
Must every shame and woe sustain,
Which proffer'd love, refus'd, can yield.
[Exit.
| Demetrius | |