Classic Poem

Strephon.

Ah! courteous Death, one Minute more allow,
Ah! stop thy Hand, and don't strike home the Blow.
Or if my Tears may not procure thy Stay,
Then at one Tug pull both our Souls away.
Like two fond Turtles we on Earth did live,
And shall Death part us now? Must I survive?
Ah no! Ah no! I'll hold his parting Soul,
I'll suck it back, thy Motions I'll controul.
With am'rous Clasps I'll hug and grasp him so,
I'll mix my Soul with his, thou shalt not know
At whom to level thy vindictive Blow.

Philander.

Alas! It will not do: Ah we must part!
Cold Death begins to seize my throbing Heart.
The fatal Minute's nigh, fain would I stay;
But ah! my struggling Soul is call'd away.

Strephon.

Relentless Death! alas, what hast thou done,
To part us two, and leave me here alone!
He hath loos'd Anchor, I stand on the Shore,
And sigh and grone, and call to wast me o'er.
But ah! thou wilt not hear! — — — —

Philander's GHOST.

What mean such Moans? why do you court my Stay?
Why thus retard and stop me on the Way?
I haste, I haste, I mount and wing above,
To the bright Fountain, the bright Source of Love.
'Tis there we'll meet, 'tis there we shall entwine:
'Tis there our loving Souls shall close combine;
And Death shall never more our Loves disjoyn.