Poems By the most deservedly Admired Mrs Katherine Philips: The matchless Orinda. To which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace Tragedies. With several other Translations out of French |
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To the tune of Sommes nous pas trop heureux.
1
How prodigious is my fate,Since I can't determine clearly,
Whether you'l do more severely
Giving me your love or hate!
For if you with kindness bless me,
Since from you I soon must part;
Fortune will so dispossess me,
That your Love will break my heart.
2
But since Death all sorrow cures,Might I chuse my way of dying,
I could wish the arrow flying
From Fortunes Quiver, not from yours.
For in the sad unusual story
How my wretched heart was torn,
It will more concern your glory,
I by absence fell then scorn.
Poems | ||