« السابقةمتابعة »
But long in vain did I adore,
Long wept and sigh'd in vain ;
She ne'er would ease my pain.
At last o’ercome she made me blest,
And yielded all her charms; And I forsook her when possest,
And fled to other's arms.
But let not this, dear CÆLIA, now
To rage thy breast incline;
CORINNA cost me many a prayer,
Ere I her heart could gain,
To take that heart again.
Despair I thought the greatest curse ;
But to my cost I find CORINNA's constancy still worse,
Most cruel when too kind.
How blindly then does Cupid carre,
How ill divide the joy,
And then with plenty cloy!
Take, oh take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
Hide, oh hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
Are of those that April wears :
* This sweet and fanciful production of an early age was probably popular at its first appearance, as one stanza of it is given in Shakespear's " Measure for Measure," and both in a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's. It has commonly been attributed to Shakespear, but probably erroneously.
Send home my long-stray'd eyes to me,
To sweetly smile
And then beguile,
Send home my harmless heart again,
To forfeit both
Its word and oath, Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine,
Yet send me back
heart and eyes, That I may know thy falsities, And laugh and joy one day, when thoa
Shalt grieve and mourn
For one will scorn,
* Donne is so rugged a versifier, that scarcely any of his productions are reducible to regular measure without some alteration. His language, also, is generally far from elegant or refived, and his thoughts are extremely strained and artificial, The preceding piece, however, has not required much correction to entitle it to a distinguished place among ingenious songs,
ON A LADY'S GIRDLE.
That which her slender waist confined
It was my heav'n's extremest sphere,
A narrow compass! and yet there
Go, lovely Rose!
That now she knows,
Tell her that's young,
That hadst thou sprung
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die; that she
May read in thee;
I truth can fix thy wavering heart,
Let Damon urge his claim;
The pure, the constant flame.