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Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон)


To Cesario


CESARIO, thy Lyre’s dulcet measure,
So sweetly, so tenderly flows;
That could my sad soul taste of pleasure,
Thy music would soften its woes. 

But ah, gentle soother, where anguish
Takes root in the grief-stricken heart;
’Tis the triumph of sorrow to languish,
’Tis rapture to cherish the smart. 

The mind where pale Mis’ry sits brooding,
Repels the soft touch of repose;
Shrinks back when blest Reason intruding,
The balm of mild comfort bestows. 

There is luxury oft in declining,
What pity’s kind motives impart; 
And to bear hapless fate, unrepining,
Is the proudest delight of the heart. 

Still, still shall thy Lyre’s gentle measure,
In strains of pure melody flow;
While each heart beats with exquisite pleasure,
SAVE MINE­the doom’d VICTIM OF WOE.



Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Stanzas to Flora
  2. The Deserted Cottage
  3. Rinaldo to Laura Maria
  4. Sonnet 9. Ye, Who in Alleys Green
  5. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter


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