Ah, whither shall I fly, A poor unhappy maid? To hopeless love and misery, By my own heart betrayed. 'Twas fancy gave Alexis charms, E're I beheld his face; Kind fancy then could fold our arms And form a soft embrace. Not by Alexis' eyes undone, Or by his charming faithless tongue, or any practised art; Such real ills may hope a cure, But the sad pains which I endure, proceed from fancied smart. But since I've seen the real swain, And tried to fancy him again I'm by my fancy taught: Tho' 'tis a bliss no tongue can tell To have Alexis, yet 'tis hell, To have him but in thought.
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by John Eccles (1668 - 1735), "Ah, whither shall I fly", from the [a play]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 112