Classic Poem

Thirsis a youth of the inspired train,
Faire Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain;
Like Phoebus sung, the no less amorous boy;
Like Daphne, she as lovely and as coy;
With numbers, he the flying Nymph pursues,
With numbers, such as Phoebus selfe might use;
Such is the chase, when love and fancy leads
O'er craggy mountains, and through flowery meads,
Invok'd to testifie the lovers care,
Or forme some image of his cruell Faire:
Urg'd with his fury like a wounded Deer
O'er these he fled, and now approaching neer,
Had reach'd the Nymph with his harmonious lay,
Whom all his charmes could not incline to stay.
Yet what he sung in his immortall straine,
Though unsuccessfull, was not sung in vaine,
All but the Nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion, and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus acquiring unsought praise,
He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arm with bayes.