22.07.2007, 14:02
O fate! conspir'd to pour your worst on me,
O rigorous rigour, which doth all confound!
With cruel hands ye have cut down the tree,
And fruit and flower dispersed on the ground.
A little space of earth my love doth bound;
That beauty which did raise it to the sky,
Turn'd in neglected dust, now low doth lie,
Deaf to my plaints, and senseless of my wound.
Ah! did I live for this? Ah! did I love?
For this and was it she did so excel?
That ere she well life's sweet-sour joys did prove,
She should, too dear a guest, with horror dwell?
Weak influence of heaven! what fair ye frame,
Falls in the prime, and passeth like a dream.
O rigorous rigour, which doth all confound!
With cruel hands ye have cut down the tree,
And fruit and flower dispersed on the ground.
A little space of earth my love doth bound;
That beauty which did raise it to the sky,
Turn'd in neglected dust, now low doth lie,
Deaf to my plaints, and senseless of my wound.
Ah! did I live for this? Ah! did I love?
For this and was it she did so excel?
That ere she well life's sweet-sour joys did prove,
She should, too dear a guest, with horror dwell?
Weak influence of heaven! what fair ye frame,
Falls in the prime, and passeth like a dream.