Page:Poems upon Several Occasions.djvu/67

That Door where no Admittance now is found,
But where my Soul is ever hov'ring round.
Haste, and obey: And binding be the Spell.
Here ends my Charm: O Love succeed it well:
By force of Magick stop the flying Fair,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer.

Thou'rt now alone; and painful is Restraint:
Ease thy prest Heart, and give thy Sorrows Vent,
Whence sprang, and how began these Griefs, declare,
How much thy Love, how cruel thy Despair.
Ye Moon and Stars, by whose auspicious Light
I haunt these Groves, and waste the tedious Night,
Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart,
Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart.
Too late for Hope, for my Repose too soon,
I saw, and lov'd: Her Heart engag'd, was gone:
A happier Man possess'd whom I adore;
O I shou'd ne'er have seen, or seen before.
Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart,
Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart.
What shall I do? Shall I in Silence bear,
Destroy my self, or kill the Ravisher?
Die, wretched Lover, die: But ah beware,
Hurt not the Man who is belov'd by her,
Wait for a better Hour, and trust thy Fate:
Thou seek'st her Love, beget not then her Hate.