 | The poems (1925) |  |
Emma to Damon,
on finding his addresses not favoured by her friends, on account of his want of fortune.
Forbear in pity, ah! forbear
To soothe my ravish'd ear;
Nor longer thus a love declare,
'Tis death for me to hear.
To soothe my ravish'd ear;
Nor longer thus a love declare,
'Tis death for me to hear.
84
Too much, alas! my tender heart
Does to thy suit incline;
Why then attempt to gain by art
What is already thine?
Does to thy suit incline;
Why then attempt to gain by art
What is already thine?
O! let not, like the Grecian dame,
My hapless fortune prove,
Who languish'd in too fierce a flame,
And died by too much love.
My hapless fortune prove,
Who languish'd in too fierce a flame,
And died by too much love.
| The poems (1925) | |