 | The Sports of the Genii |  |
12
THE CAPTIVE.
“FORBEAR! forbear!” Compassion cry'd;
“Nor treat with cold insulting pride
“The Captive in thy pow'r.
“Behold her form, in beauty gay;
“Nor, in thy cruel, thoughtless play,
“Abridge her little hour.
“Nor treat with cold insulting pride
“The Captive in thy pow'r.
“Behold her form, in beauty gay;
“Nor, in thy cruel, thoughtless play,
“Abridge her little hour.
“Poor trembling insect! easy caught!
“How distant, in thy simple thought,
“The danger, when most near!
“Perhaps on Clytie's golden breast
“Thou sought for safety—hop'd for rest;
“And sorrow found thee there!
“How distant, in thy simple thought,
“The danger, when most near!
“Perhaps on Clytie's golden breast
“Thou sought for safety—hop'd for rest;
“And sorrow found thee there!
13
“The Muse shall mourn thy hapless fate;
“For Love can torture more than Hate,
“And will—because he may.
“O may some star propitious beam,
“And save thee from the dire extreme,
“Speeding thy flight away!”
“For Love can torture more than Hate,
“And will—because he may.
“O may some star propitious beam,
“And save thee from the dire extreme,
“Speeding thy flight away!”
| The Sports of the Genii | |