Poem by John Dryden

* * *

You charm'd me not with that fair face
Though it was all divine:
To be another's is the grace,
That makes me wish you mine.

The Gods and Fortune take their part
Who like young monarchs fight;
And boldly dare invade that heart
Which is another's right.

First mad with hope we undertake
To pull up every bar;
But once possess'd, we faintly make
A dull defensive war.

Now every friend is turn'd a foe
In hope to get our store:
And passion makes us cowards grow,
Which made us brave before. 

1. A Song (High State and Honours to others impart)
2. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
3. Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne's Tomb in Westminster Abbey
4. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
5. Hymn For St. John's Eve, 29th June

Print

1712 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version