Oh, had she not been fair and thus unkind, Then had no finger pointed at my lightness; The world had never known what I do find, And clouds obscure had shaded still her brightness. Then had no censor's eye these lines surveyed, Nor graver brows have judged my muse so vain; No sun my blush and error had bewrayed, Nor yet the world had heard of such disdain. Then had I walked with bold erected face, No downcast look had signified my miss; But my degraded hopes with such disgrace Did force me groan out griefs and utter this. For being full, should not I then have spoken, My sense, oppressed, had failed, and heart had broken. |