DAMON. Blest Thyrsis, Thyrsis crowned with happiness! Mayst thou enjoy for ages yet to come Thy bliss 'midst Love's delight and certain peace. But I, whom brief and unrelenting doom To such a doubtful pass as this hath led, In merit poor, in cares rich, near the tomb. 'Tis good that I should die, since, being dead, Nor cruel Amaryllis shall I fear Nor Love ungrateful whereby I am sped. Oh, fairer than the heavens, or sun's bright sphere, Yet harder far than adamant to me, Ready to hurt, but slow to bring me cheer, What wind from south or north or east on thee Harshness did blow, that thou didst thus ordain, That from thy presence I should ever flee? I, shepherdess, in lands across the main Far off shall die--thy will thou hast avowed-- Doomed unto death, to fetter, yoke and chain. THYRSIS. Since Heaven in its mercy hath endowed Thee, Damon, with such blessings, dearest friend, With intellect so sprightly and so proud, Yet it with thy lament and sorrow blend, Remember that the sun's all-scorching ray And ice's chill at last shall have an end. Destiny does not always choose one way Whereby with smooth, reposeful steps to bring Happiness to us--mark the words I say-- For sometimes by unthought-of suffering, In seeming far from pleasure and from joy, It leads us to the blisses poets sing. But come, good friend, thy memory employ Upon the modest joys that Love once gave, Pledges of victory without alloy. And, if thou canst, a pastime seek, to save Thy soul from brooding, whilst the time of scorn Goes by, and we attain the boon we crave. Unto the ice that by degrees doth burn, Unto the fire that chills beyond degree, What bard shall place degree thereto, or bourne? Vainly he wearies, vainly watcheth he Who, out of favour, yet Love's web doth seek To cut according to his fantasy; He is, though strong in Love, in fortune weak.