Classic Poem

1

Whoever thinks that Joyes below
Can lasting be and great,
Let him behold this parting blow,
And cure his own deceit.

2

Alas! how soon are pleasures done,
Where Fortune has a Power!
How like to the declining Sun,
Or to the Withered Flower!

3

A thousand unconcerned Eyes
She'l suffer us to see,
But of those we chiefly prize,
We must deprived be

4

But we may conquer if we will,
The wanton Tyrant teach,
That we have something left us still,
Which grows not in her reach.

5

The unseen string which fastens hearts,
Nor time nor chance e're ty'd,
Nor can it be in either's Arts
Thir unions to divide.

6

Where sympathy does Love convey,
It braves all other Powers,
Lucasia and Rosania , say,
Has it not formed ours?

7

If forty weeks converse has not
Been able yet to tye
Yours Souls in that Mysterious Knot,
How wretched then am I.

8

But if I read in either's Mind,
As sure I hope I do,
That each to other is combin'd,
Absence will make it true.

9

No accident will e're surprise,
Or make your kindness start;
Although you lose each others Eyes,
You'l faster keep the Heart.

10

Letters as kind as Turtle-Doves,
And undisguis'd as thought,
Will entertain those fervent Loves
Which have each other bought.

11

Till Fortune, vexed with the sight
Of Faith so free from stain,
Shall then grow weary of her spight,
And let you meet again.

12

Wherein may you that Rapture find,
That sister Cherals have,
When I am in my Rocks confin'd,
Or seal'd up in my Grave.