Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring by John Dryden Ask not the cause why sullen spring So long delays her flow'rs to bear; Why warbling birds forget to sing, And winter storms invert the year? Chloris is gone; and Fate provides To make it spring where she resides.
16 Aug 2018 09:47

Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring by John Dryden Ask not the cause why sullen spring So long delays her flow'rs to bear; Why warbling birds forget to sing, And winter storms invert the year? Chloris is gone; and Fate provides To make it spring where she resides. 

Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring by John Dryden
Ask not the cause why sullen spring
So long delays her flow'rs to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing,
And winter storms invert the year?
Chloris is gone; and Fate provides
To make it spring where she resides.

Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;
She cast not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair,
To sigh, to languish, and to die:
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure!

Great god of Love, why hast thou made
A face that can all hearts command,
That all religions can invade,
And change the laws of ev'ry land?
Where thou hadst plac'd such pow'r before,
Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.

When Chloris to the temple comes,
Adoring crowds before her fall;
She can restore the dead from tombs,
And ev'ry life but mine recall.
I only am by love design'd
To be the victim for mankind.

--
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Song From Amphitryon by John Dryden Air Iris I love, and hourly I die,  But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye:  She's fickle and false, and there we agree,  For I am as false and as fickle as she.  We neither believe what either can say;  And, neither believing, we neither betray.  'Tis civil to swear, and say things of course;  We mean not the taking for better or worse.  When present, we love; when absent, agree:  I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me.  The legend of love no couple can find,  So easy to part, or so equally join'd. Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring by John Dryden Ask not the cause why sullen spring So long delays her flow'rs to bear; Why warbling birds forget to sing, And winter storms invert the year? Chloris is gone; and Fate provides To make it spring where she resides. To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew by John Dryden Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the Blest; Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green above the rest: Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race, Or, in procession fix'd and regular, Mov'd with the Heavens' majestic pace:
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