Page:Poetical Works of the Right Hon. Geo. Granville.djvu/151

Rh A happier man poſſeſs’d whom I adore: O! I ſhould ne’er have ſeen, or ſeen before. Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart, Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.

What ſhall I do? ſhall I in ſilence bear? Deſtroy myſelf, or kill the raviſher? Die, wretched lover! die: but, O! beware, Hurt not the man who is belov’d by her: Wait for a better hour, and truſt thy fate: Thou ſeek’ſt her love, beget not then her hate. Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart, Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.

My life conſuming with eternal grief, From herbs and ſpells I seek a vain relief; To ev’ry wiſe magician I repair, In vain; for ſtill I love, and I deſpair. Circe, Medea, and the Sibyls’ books, Contain not half th’ enchantment of her looks. Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart, Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.

As melted gold preſerves its weight the ſame, So burnt my love, nor waſted in the flame. And now, unable to ſupport the ſtrife, A glimm’ring hope recalls departing life;