Pardon that absence, mistress, which offended,
And think what fears to servitude belong;
Indeed, indeed, my love I meant no wrong;
My thoughts at least upon your feast attended:
But had I gone the merry guests among,
Though by your smiles and cheering care befriended,
How sadly would my sighs and tears have blended,
With their loud laugh and bacchanalian song.
Hard was the task, and painful to forbear,
When Music, Beauty, Wit and Mirth invited;
And sad the contrast of such social fare,
To sit alone in the mind's gloom benighted:
But, lo! you weep. Nay if my griefs you share,
By such affection I am well requited.