Classic Poem

Ye shepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain,
Approach from your sports, and attend to my strain;
Amongst all your number a loyer so true
Was ne'er so undone, with such bliss in his view.

Was ever a nymph so hard-hearted as mine?
She knows me sincere, and she sees how I pine;
She does not disdain me, nor frown in her wrath,
But calmly and mildly resigns me to death.

She calls me her friend, but her lover denies:
She smiles when I'm cheerful, but hears not my sighs;
A bosom so flinty, so gentle an air,
Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair!

I fall at her feet, and implore her with tears:
Her answer confounds, while her manner endears;
When softly she tells me to hope no relief,
My trembling lips bless her, in spite of my grief.

By night, while I slumber, still haunted with care,
I start up in anguish and sigh for the fair:
The fair sleeps in peace, may she ever do so!
And only when dreaming imagine my woe.

Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire;
Nor think she shou'd love, whom she cannot admire;
Hush all thy complaining, and dying her slave,
Commend her to Heaven, and thyself to the grave.