Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A COMPLAINT, by PHILIP AYRES



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A COMPLAINT, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: When first I here to cynthia spake my mind
Last Line: And find no certain rest till life be done.
Subject(s): Love - Complaints


WHEN first I here to Cynthia spake my mind,
Near these sweet streams, which to our thoughts were kind:
Ah, then in perfect harmony we met,
And to our concert join'd the rivulet.

The flowers, plants, echoes, craggy rocks and dales,
The pleasant meads, proud hills, and humble vales,
Seem'd then o'erjoy'd at my felicity,
Which now condole with me in misery.

Yet still the wing'd inhab'tants of the wood
Sing, as my change they had not understood:
tho' sure the melancholy tunes they vent
Are rather notes of grief, than merriment.

Oh Nymphs, that in these crystal streams do dwell!
And after sport rest quiet in your cell:
Once, clear as yours, a happy life I led,
Tho' now o'erwhelm'd with grief, and live as dead.

Thus we through various turns of Fortune run,
And find no certain rest till Life be done.





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