Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | ||
To Clelia.
Shall still my suit prove void, then bid me die,I onely hope in vain, tell me, shall I
Enjoy that very word torments my Soul;
Your Eyes do promise what you will Control.
Beauty 's too great to be a Tyrant there,
I harbour nothing now but sad despair,
Adore ing you, my hopes are nought but Air.
Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | ||