JOHN DRYDEN
Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it; My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, But they fall silently, like dew on roses.
Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, My heart 's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel ; And while I suffer this to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. To be more happy I dare not aspire, Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.
��Song to a Fair Young Lady, going out of the Town in the Spring
AK not the cause why sullen Spring So long delays her flowers to bear, Why warbling birds forget to sing,
And winter storms invert the year. Chloris is gone; and fate provides To make it Spring where she resides.
Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;
She cast not back a pitying eye: But left her lover in despair
To sigh, to languish, and to die: Ah! how can those fair eyes endure To give the wounds they will not cure!
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