Poem by Mark Akenside

The Complaint

AWAY! away!
Tempt me no more, insidious Love:
Thy soothing sway
Long did my youthful bosom prove:
At length thy treason is discern'd,
At length some dear-bought caution earn'd:
Away! nor hope my riper age to move.

I know, I see
Her merit. Needs it now be shown,
Alas! to me?
How often, to myself unknown,
The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid
Have I admired! How often said--
What joy to call a heart like hers one's own!

But, flattering god,
O squanderer of content and ease
In thy abode
Will care's rude lesson learn to please?
O say, deceiver, hast thou won
Proud Fortune to attend thy throne,
Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees?

1. For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock
2. The Virtuoso; in imitation of Spencer's Style and Stanza
3. On a Sermon Against Glory
4. A British Philippic
5. Ode to Thomas Edwards, Esq; on the late Edition of Mr. Pope's Works

Caroline Fry (Wilson) The Complaint ("O YOU who at lighter afflictions repine")

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