Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | ||
A Lovers Complaint.
Ah fainting Breath, there's nought can yield reliefUnto a wounded Soul, whose murm'ring grief
Loves no delay, but like the rising Sun,
Still perseveres until his course is done.
What shall I speak? or what can I devise?
I'le rather dye, than once Apostatize.
Nor shall my panting Breath your shade defame,
I'll honour you, and Idolize your Name;
And though at last you scorn me till I dye,
I needs must love you to Eternity.
Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | ||