GRIEVE not, my Celia, but with haste Obey the fury of thy fate; 'Tis some perfection to waste Discreetly out our wretched state: To be obedient in this sense Will prove thy virtue, though offence. Who knows but destiny may relent? For many miracles have bin: Thou proving thus obedient To all the griefs she plung'd thee in; And then the certainty she meant Reverted is by accident. But yet, I must confess, 'tis much, When we remember what hath bin: Thus parting, never more to touch, To let eternal absence in: Though never was our pleasure yet So pure, but chance distracted it. What, shall we then submit to fate, And die to one another's love? No, Celia, no, my soul doth hate Those lovers that inconstant prove. Fate may be cruel, but if you decline, The crime is yours, and all the glory mine. Fate and the planets sometimes bodies part, But canker'd nature only alters th' heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BABY MAY by WILLIAM COX BENNETT THE DANCE OF THE SEVIN DEIDLY SYNNIS by WILLIAM DUNBAR SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE STRANGER'S ALMS by HENRY ABBEY THE FROGS: THE RIVAL POETS by ARISTOPHANES EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 29. ALL NOT WORTH A REWARD by PHILIP AYRES |