Classic Poem

To that dear Nymph, whose powerfull Name
Does ev'ry throbbing Nerve inflame
(As the soft sound I low repeat
My pulse unequal measures beat),
Whose Eyes I never more shall see
That once so sweetly shin'd on me,
Go Gentle Wind, and kindly bear
My tender wishes to the fair,
Oh ho, ho, etc.

Amidst her pleasures let her know
The secret Anguish of my Woe,
The midnight pang, the Jealous Hell
Does in this tortur'd bosom dwell
While laughing she, and full of play
Is with her young Companions gay
Or hearing in some fragrant bower
Her Lovers sighs, and Beauty's power,
Oh ho, ho etc.

Lost and forgotten may I be,
Oh may no pitying thought of me
Disturb the Joy that she may find
When Love is crown'd, and fortune kind.
May that blest Swain (whom yet I hate)
Be proud of his distinguish'd Fate;
Each happy Night be like the first
And she be blest, as I am curst,
Oh ho, ho etc.

While in these pathless Woods I stray
And lose my Solitary way,
Talk to the Stars, to Trees complain
And tell the senseless rocks my pain,
But madness spares that sacred Name
Nor dares the hidden wound proclaim
Which secret rankling, sure, and slow
Shall close in endless peace my Woe.
Oh ho, ho etc.

When this fond Heart shall ake no more
And all the ills of Life are o'er
(If Gods by Lovers' prayers are mov'd,
As ev'ry God in Heaven has lov'd)
Instead of bright Elyzian Joys
That unknown something in the skies
In recompence of all my pain
The only Heaven I would obtain,
May I the Guardian of her charms
Preserve that Paradise from harms.