198
Tixall Poetry.
LXVI.
Lavinia.
You neighb'ring nimphs, who to this grove repaire,
So often witness to my hopeless love,
Be you more just than my unpitying faire,
And let my anguish your compassion move.
Marke well those sighs with which I spend my breath,
For my dispaire admits noe cure but death.
So often witness to my hopeless love,
Be you more just than my unpitying faire,
And let my anguish your compassion move.
Marke well those sighs with which I spend my breath,
For my dispaire admits noe cure but death.
And you, kind echoes, who for ever wake,
Attentive to unhappy lovers' mone,
When in your shades Lavinia walkes alone,
In thought of what I suffer for her sake,
In moveing sounds my last complaints repeate
To that deare cause of my untimely fate.
Attentive to unhappy lovers' mone,
When in your shades Lavinia walkes alone,
In thought of what I suffer for her sake,
In moveing sounds my last complaints repeate
To that deare cause of my untimely fate.
