Ten Songs in Two Sets of Five Each, Set I , opus 122

Since by ill fate I'm forced away,
And snatch'd so soon from those dear arms,
Against my will I must obey,
And leave those sweet endearing charms.

Yet still love on, and never fear
But you and constancy will prove
Enough my present flame to bear,
And make me, though in absence, love.

For though your presence Fate denies,
I feel, alas! the killing smart,
And can with undiscerned eyes
Behold your picture in my heart.

Let perjured fair [Amynta]1 know
What for her sake I undergo;
Tell her, for her how I sustain
A lingering fever's wasting pain;
Tell her the torments I endure,
Which only, only she can cure.

But, oh! she scorns to hear or see
The wretch that lies so low as me;
Her sudden greatness turns her brain,
And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain;
For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried)
That Pity ever dwelt with Pride.

Is it, O love, thy want of eyes,
Or by the Fates decreed,
That hearts so seldom sympathise,
Or for each other bleed?

If thou wouldst make two youthful hearts
One amorous shaft obey,
'Twould save thee the expense of darts,
And more extend thy sway.

Forbear, alas! thus to destroy
Thyself, thy growing power,
For that which would be stretch'd by joy
Despair will soon devour.

Ah! wound then my relentless fair,
For thy own sake and mine,
That boundless may be my share,
And double glory thine.

Since my words, though ne'er so tender,
With sincerest truth express'd,
Cannot make your heart surrender,
Nor so much as warm your breast;

What will move the springs of Nature
What will make you think me true?
Tell me, thou mysterious creature,
Tell poor Strephon what will do.

Do not, Charmion, rack your lover
Thus, by seeming not to know
What so plainly all discover,
What his eyes so plainly show.

Fair one, 'tis yourself deceiving,
'Tis against your reason's laws;
Atheist-like (th' effect perceiving)
Still to disbelieve the cause.

Some kind angel, gently flying,
Moved with pity at my pain,
Tell Corinna I am dying
Till with joy we meet again.

Tell Corinna, since we parted
I have never known delight,
And shall soon be broken-hearted
If I longer want her sight.

Tell her how her lover, mourning,
Thinks each lazy day a year,
Cursing every morn returning,
Since Corinna is not here.

Tell her, too, not distant places,
Will she be but true and kind,
Join'd with time and change of faces,
E'er shall shake my constant mind.