By William Walsh (1662-1708).
Distracted with care
For Phillis the fair,
Since nothing could move her,
Poor Damon, her lover,
Resolves in despair 5
No longer to languish
Nor bear so much anguish;
But, mad with his love,
To a precipice goes,
Where a leap from above 10
Would soon finish his woes.
When in rage he came there,
Beholding how steep
The sides did appear,
And the bottom how deep; 15
His torments projecting,
And sadly reflecting
That a lover forsaken
A new love may get,
But a neck when once broken 20
Isn’t easily set:
And that he could die
Whenever he would,
But that he could live
But as long as he could: 25
How grievous soever
The torment might grow,
He scorned to endeavour
To finish it so;
And bold, unconcerned 30
At thoughts of the pain,
He calmly returned
To his cottage again.
No comments:
Post a Comment