 | Poetical works [1797] |  |
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SONGS.
SONG.
[Though Celia's born to be ador'd]
[I]
Though Celia's born to be ador'd,And Strephon to adore her born,
In vain her pity is implor'd,
Who kills him twice with charms and scorn.
II
Fair saint, to your blest orb repair,To learn in heaven a heavenly mind;
Thence harken to a sinner's prayer,
And be less beauteous, or more kind.
SONG.
[Of all the torments, all the cares]
Of all the torments, all the cares,
With which our lives are curst;
Of all the plagues a lover bears,
Sure rivals are the worst.
By partners, in each other kind,
Afflictions easier grow;
In love alone we hate to find
Companions of our woe.
With which our lives are curst;
Of all the plagues a lover bears,
Sure rivals are the worst.
By partners, in each other kind,
Afflictions easier grow;
In love alone we hate to find
Companions of our woe.
Sylvia, for all the pangs you see
Are labouring in my breast;
I beg not you would favour me,
Would you but slight the rest!
How great soe'er your rigours are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own despair,
But not another's hope.
Are labouring in my breast;
I beg not you would favour me,
Would you but slight the rest!
How great soe'er your rigours are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own despair,
But not another's hope.
A SONG TO PHYLLIS.
[I]
Phyllis, we not grieve that nature,Forming you, has done her part;
And in every single feature
Shew'd the utmost of her art.
II
But in this it is pretendedThat a mighty grievance lies,
54
Whilst you wound us with your eyes.
III
Love's a senseless inclination,Where no mercy's to be found;
But is just, where kind compassion
Gives us balm to heal the wound.
IV
Persians, paying solemn dutyTo the rising sun, inclin'd,
Never would adore his beauty,
But in hopes to make him kind.
| Poetical works [1797] | |