 | The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 |  |
Scene 5th
PhedonTransporting sounds! O my enraptur'd soul!
Yes; I will be the friend of Socrates,
Will be myself, and will deserve Apame.
Thou shalt be mine; for sure the righteous powers
210
With ev'ry happiness this earth can yield—
But talk'd she not of evils that might bar,
Might thwart our bliss? forbid it, heav'n!—the thought,
Shou'd I dwell longer on it, wou'd distract me.
I'll strive then to forget it, and away
To my expecting friends.
| The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 | |