![]() | A Collection Of Poems | ![]() |
210
On CÆLIA's refusing to see ME.
By the Same.
Ill fated Damon ne'er can cease to mourn,From the dear Object of his Passion torn;
In his own Country must an Exile live,
Amidst unbounded Liberty a Slave.
Were it not kinder, Fair One, to admit
The Lover gasping at his Cælia's Feet?
Where thousand Deaths their instant Pow'r employ,
Hang at thy Pendants, on thy Bosom play:
Where certain Fate its Arrows can elance,
Shot from a Dimple, or a well-aim'd Glance!
211
In ling'ring Sorrow, and continu'd Pain;
Since thou by more immediate force can'st kill,
Pierce with a Look, or murder with a Smile.
![]() | A Collection Of Poems | ![]() |