  DISTRACTED with care, For Phyllis the fair, Since nothing can move her, Poor Damon, her lover, Resolves in despair No longer to languish, Nor bear so much anguish; But, mad with his love, To a precipice goes, Where a leap from above Will soon finish his woes. When, in rage, he came there, Beholding how steep The sides did appear, And the bottom how deep; His torments projecting, And sadly reflecting That a lover forsaken A new lover may get; But a neck, when once broken, Can never be set: And that he could die Whenever he would; But that he could live But as long as he could; How grievous soever He scorned to endeavour To finish it so. But hold, unconcern’d, At the thoughts of the pain, He calmly return’d To his cottage again. William Walsh. |
|
