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The COMPLAINT of a LOVER.
MISS ANNE KILLIGREW.
Seest thou younder craggy rock,
Whose head o'er-looks the swelling main,
Or careful peasant sow'd his grain ?
No wholesome herb grows on the same,
Or bird of day will on it reft ;
That scorches my tormented breaft.
Deep underneath a cave does lie,
Th' entrance hid with dismal yew,
Or chearful day yet pierced through.
In that dark melancholy cell,
(Retreat and follace to my woe) Love, fad difpair, and I, do dwell,
15 The springs from whence my griefs do flow.
Treacherous love that did appear,
* Born 1660; dyed 1685.
Drest in a garb far from severe,
Or threatning ought of future smart,
So innocent those charms then seem'd,
When Rosalinda first I spy'd,
But Aow'rs do often serpents hide.
Beneath those sweets concealed lay,
To love the cruel foe, disdain, With which (alas) she does repay
My constant and deserving pain.
When I in tears have spent the night,
With fighs I usher in the sun, Who never saw a fadder sight
In all the courses he has run.
Sleep, which to others ease does prove,
Comès unto me, alas, in vain : For in my dreams I am in love,
And in them too she does disdain.
Sometimes, t'amuse my forrow, I
Unto the hollow rocks repair, And loudly to the eccho cry,
Ah! gentle nimph, come ease my care.
Thou who, times past, a lover wer't,
Ah! pity me, who now am so, And by a sense of thine own smart,
Alleviate my mighty woe.
Come flatter then, or chide my grief;
Catch my last words, and call me fool; Or say she loves for my relief;
My paflion either footh, or school.
BY MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. *
OH! lead me to some solitary gloom,
20 To whisper out his airy raptures here. Only the pensive songstress of the grove, Let her, by mine, her mournful notes improve ;
Born 1674 ; dyed 1739. Her maiden name was Singer.