« AnteriorContinuar »
ALMERIA then, feeling the Destinies
'Tis past; this Pang-Naturegives o'er the Strife;
, In spight of Death itself shall still remain. Dearest ORONTES, my hard Fate denies
That Hope is the last thing which in us dies: From my griev'd Breast all those soft Thoughts are filed, And Love survives it, tho'my Hope is dead Iyield my Life, but keep my Passion yet, *And can all Thoughts but of ORONTES quit; My Flame increases as my Strength decays; Death, which puts out the Light, the Heat will raise:
That still remains, thoʻI from hence remove;
The Sigh which sent forth that last tender Word, Up tow'rds the Heav'ns like a bright Meteor soar'd; And the kind Nymph, not yet bereft of Charms, Fell cold and breathless in her Lover's Arms.
Goddess, who now my Fate haft understood,
Come then, my only Hope; in ev'ry place
A welcome Death the slightest Wound can bring,
That gentle, yet resistless Heat,
To low Brutality debase Mankind,
High Mysteries, above poor Reason's feeble Reach.
To weak old Age Prudence someAid may prove, And curb those Appetites that faintly move; But wild, impetuous Youth is tam’d by nothing less
than Love. Of Men too rough for Peace, too rude for Arts, Love's Power can penetrate the hardest Hearts ;