| The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle | |
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III.
OF LOVE AND LOVE'S DELIGHT.
Of love and love's delight no more I sing;
Nor praise Eliza's soft bewitching eye,
And sunny locks descending gracefully
O'er that fair bosom, like an angel's wing
Floating in light. Alas! the joyous string,
That breathed responsive to love's blissful sigh,
Ill suits the heart where hope and fancy die,
Like flowers untimely blighted in their spring.
Yet doth the memory of those gentle days
In its fixed sadness soothe my darkened mind,
And tempt oft-times to meditate the lays
In hours of happiness for her designed,
Whose lovely image, neither fates unkind,
Nor time, nor absence, from my breast can raze.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle | |
|