The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
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 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
Ah, poor Polindor! little do'st thou know
Th' whole smarting Worlds, but most thy fatall Blow:
Does no kind Gale sigh, whisper't in thine eare?
No Thunder roar it out? nor Earthquake bear
The trembling newes? such monstrous Prodigies
Would sute such monstrous foul Acts) do not Skies
Blaze it in starry text? or's loytring, sleeping
Thy Guardian-angel now? rather, blood weeping,
Gasps not thine own Heart forth their errand? crying,
Fatality! all worth, all beauty's Dying.
Had'st thou but kept the Key! but 'twas love's Fault,
That over-hasty made, forgetfull that;
Though (truly) if lost, or forc'd from thee Death's stroak
If seiz'd by th' way, then had she starv'd ith' Rock,
Thy Death she falsely mourn'd, but hapless Thou
(Part chang'd) may'st Mourn hers justly, truely'st now.
Poor Wretch! too late (alas) and yet too soon
Thou com'st at once, to find thy self Undone.
Th' whole smarting Worlds, but most thy fatall Blow:
Does no kind Gale sigh, whisper't in thine eare?
No Thunder roar it out? nor Earthquake bear
The trembling newes? such monstrous Prodigies
Would sute such monstrous foul Acts) do not Skies
Blaze it in starry text? or's loytring, sleeping
Thy Guardian-angel now? rather, blood weeping,
Gasps not thine own Heart forth their errand? crying,
Fatality! all worth, all beauty's Dying.
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That over-hasty made, forgetfull that;
Though (truly) if lost, or forc'd from thee Death's stroak
If seiz'd by th' way, then had she starv'd ith' Rock,
Thy Death she falsely mourn'd, but hapless Thou
(Part chang'd) may'st Mourn hers justly, truely'st now.
Poor Wretch! too late (alas) and yet too soon
Thou com'st at once, to find thy self Undone.
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |