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John Dryden (Джон Драйден)

The Tears of Amynta for the Death of Damon



ON a Bank, beside a Willow,
Heav’n her Cov’ring, Earth her Pillow,
Sad Amynta sigh’d alone;
From the chearless dawn of Morning
Till the Dews of Night returning,
Singing thus she made her mone:
      Hope is banish’d,
      Joys are vanish’d,
Damon, my belov’d, is gone!

Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a Youth, and such a Lover;
Oh, so true, so kind was he!
Damon was the pride of Nature,
Charming in his every Feature;
Damon liv’d alone for me:
      Melting Kisses,
      Murmuring Blisses;
Who so liv’d and lov’d as we!

Never shall we curse the Morning,
Never bless the Night returning,
Sweet Embraces to restore:
Never shall we both ly dying,
Nature failing, love supplying
All the Joys he drain’d before.
      Death come end me
      To befriend me;
Love and Damon are no more.

John Dryden's other poems:
  1. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
  2. On Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk
  3. Epilogue to Henry II
  4. Te Deum
  5. The Beautiful Lady of the May

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