Stella oft sees the very face of woe Painted in my beclouded stormy face; But cannot skill to pity my disgrace, Not though thereof the cause herself she know; Yet hearing late a fable, which did show Of lovers never known a grievous case, Pity thereof gat in her breast such place That, from that sea derived, tears' springs did flow. Alas, if fancy drawn by imaged things, Though false, yet with free scope more grace doth breed Than servant's wrack, where new doubts honours brings; Then think, my dear, that you in me do read Of lover's ruin some sad tragedy: I am not I, pity the tale of me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO SIMPLICITY by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME: IN PRAISE OF HIS BEST-BELOVED FAWNIA by ROBERT GREENE FONTENOY, 1745: 2. AFTER THE BATTLE, EARLY DAWN, CLARE COAST by EMILY LAWLESS THE LOST CHILD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS THE DEAMON LOVER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |