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The Distracted Lover I go to the Elysian shade Where sorrow ne'er shall wound me; Where nothing shall my rest invade, But joy shall still surround me. I fly from Celia's cold disdain, From her disdain I fly; She is the cause of all my pain, For her alone I die. Her eyes are bright than the midday sun, When he but half his radiant course has run, When his meridian glories gaily shine And gild all nature with a warmth divine. See yonder river's flowing tide, Which now so full appears: Those streams, that do so swiftly glide, Are nothing but my tears. There I have wept till I could weep no more, And curst mine eyes, when they have wept their store; Then, like the clouds that rob the azure main, I've drain'd the flood to weep it back again. Pity my pains, Ye gentle swains! Cover me with ice and snow, I scorch, I burn, I flame, I glow! Furies, tear me, Quickly bear me To the dismal shade below! Where yelling and howling, And grumbling and growling Strike the ear with horrid woe. Hissing snakes, Fiery lakes Would be a pleasure and a cure. Not all the hells, Where Pluto dwells, Can give such pain as I endure. To some peaceful plain convey me, On a mossy carpet lay me, Fan me with ambrosial breeze, Let me die, and so have ease! Henry Carey's other poems:
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