Classic Poem

TRISTAN

Now Love be prais'd! that cruel Fair,
Who my poor Heart restrains
Under so many Chains,
Hath weav'd a new one for it of her Hair.

These threads of Amber us'd to play
With every courtly wind,
And never were confin'd,
But in a thousand Curls allow'd to stray.

Cruel each part of her is grown,
Nor lesse unkinde then She
These fetters are to Me,
Which to restrain my Freedome, lose their own.