Is Cynthia happily return'd, Whose absence I so long have mourn'd? Or do I dream, or is it she? My life's restorer 'tis, I see. Ah, Fugitive, that hadst the heart, Body and Soul so long to part! Thy presence is a sweet surprise, A welcome dream to waking eyes; Who can such joy in bounds contain, My Cynthia is come back again! No notice of your coming? This Is just to surfeit me with bliss. You are (as when you went) unkind, With such extremes to charge my mind; This sudden pleasure might destroy, E'er Sorrow could make way for Joy. The eye is struck before the ear, We lightning see, e'er we the thunder hear. |