I I GUESS'D none wretched in his love, But who his Mistress's scorn did prove, Nor judg'd him happy, but whose fire Was paid with mutual desire: But sad experience tells, In both extremes there dwells A destiny, which so malignant is To make Man wretched in his greatest bliss. II The brightest Beauty I adore, That consecrated Earth e'er bore, The sweetest person, fairest mind, That ever met in Womankind; And (which afflicts me) am Met with an equal flame: For, had she hated me, her scorn might have Condemn'd my infant love to its bless'd grave. III But such 'tis nourish'd by her grace, As Time, nor objects can deface, To such a faith, as cannot be Compell'd from its integrity. But oh, th' unwelcome cause, Of superstitious laws! That us, from our mutual embraces tear, And separates our bloods, because too near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE MODERN MOTHER by ALICE MEYNELL BOSTON by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ODE; SUNG BY THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS by W. T. ADAMS EPITAPH ON A CHILD by JEAN ANTOINE DE BAIF |