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John Cunningham (Джон Каннингем) Daphne No longer, Daphne, I admire The graces in thine eyes; Continued coyness kills desire, And famish'd passion dies. Three tedious years I've sigh'd in vain, Nor could my vows prevail; With all the rigours of disdain You scorn'd my amorous tale. When Celia cry'd, how senseless she, That has such vows refus'd; Had Damon giv'n his heart to me, It had been kinder us'd. The man's a fool that pines and dies, Because a woman's coy; The gentle bliss that one denies, A thousand will enjoy. Such charming words, so void of art, Surprising rapture gave; And though the maid subdu'd my heart, It ceas'd to be a slave: A wretch condemn'd, shall Daphne prove: While blest without restraint, In the sweet calendar of love My Celia stands — a saint. John Cunningham's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1211 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |