Fairest of the female train, You must seek another swain, Damon will not come again! All his toils are over! As you prized him, to excess, Your loss is great, I will confess, But, lady, yield not to distress-- I will be your lover. _Lucinda_ Not all the swains the land can shew, (If Damon is not living now)[126] Can from my bosom drive my woe, Or bid a second passion glow;-- For Damon has possession; Not all the gifts that wealth can bring, Nor all the airs that you can sing, Nor all the music of the string Can banish his impression. _Thyrsis_ Wedlock and death too often prove Pernicious to the fires of Love: With equal strength they both combine Hearts best united[127] to disjoin: Hence ardent loves too soon remit; Thus die the fires that Cupid lit. Female tears and April snow Sudden come and sudden go. Since his head is levelled low, Cease remembrance of your woe. Can it be in reason found To be crazy for Love's wound?[128] Must you live in sorrows drowned For a lover under ground? _Lucinda_ What a picture have I seen! What can all these visions mean! Wintry groves and vacant halls, Coffins hid by sable palls, Monuments and funerals! Forms terrific to the sight, Ghastly phantoms clad in white; Streams that ever seemed to freeze, Shaded o'er by willow trees,[129] Ever drooping--hardly green-- What a vision have I seen! One I saw of angel kind, From the dregs of life refined; On her visage such a smile,[130] And she talk'd in such a style! All was heaven upon her brow;-- Yes, I think I see her now! All in beams of light arrayed; And these cheering words she said: Fair Lucinda, come to me; What has grief to do with thee? O forsake your wretched shore, Crimsoned with its children's gore![131] Could you but a moment stray In the meadows where I play, You would die to come away. Come away, and speed your wing--[132] Here we love, and here we sing! _Thyrsis_ You will not yet forget your glooms, The heavy heart, the downcast eye, The cheek that scarce a smile assumes, The never-ending sigh![133] _Lucinda_ Had you the secret cause to grieve-- That in this breast doth lie, Instead of wishing to relieve You would be just as I. _Thyrsis_ What secret cause have you to grieve?-- A lover gone astray?--[134] If one was able to deceive, Perhaps another may. _Lucinda_ My lover has not me deceived, An act he would disdain; Oh! he is gone--and I am grieved-- He'll never come again! He'll never come again! _Thyrsis_