Александр Бром (Alexander Brome)

Текст оригинала на английском языке

The Recovery


HOw unconcerned I can now
Behold that face of thine!
The Graces and the dresses too,
Which both conspir'd to make thee shine,
And made me think thou wert divine.


And yet me thinks thou'rt wondrous fair,
But I have no desires,
Those Glories in thy face that are,
Kindled not in my heart those fires,
For that remains, though this expires.


Nor was't my eyes that had such pow'r
To burn my self and you,
For then they'ld every thing devour,
But I do several others view,
Unsing'd, and so don't think it true.


Nay both together could not do't,
Else we had dy'd e're this,
Without some higher pow'r to boot,
Which must rule both, if either miss,
All t'other to no purpose is.


It puzzles my Philosophy,
To find wherein consists
This pow'r of love, and tyranny,
Or in a Lovers eye, or breast
Be't where it will, there let it rest.

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