Classic Poem

Say, have I sworn deceitfully to heav'n,
Or yet profan'd the deities of love?
Has one injur'd me, and not been forgiv'n?
Or, want neglected, drawn the wrath of Jove?

If so, let years in painful penance past,
And midnight pray'rs the grievous sin atone;
My youthful strength let pining sickness waste,
And tort'ring aches prey on ev'ry bone.

But spare, O spare, the lovely guiltless maid!
Why should she suffer for another's fault?
Is this the due of matin prayers paid,
Of purest piety, and untainted thought?

The dire disease deforms each lovely limb,
Death's pallid yellow overspreads her face;
Vain are my vows; for what can soften him,
The unrelenting butcher of the race?

Farewel, dear maid! again, again, farewel;
Nor doubt thy lover will survive thy death:
One fatal hour shall ring our solemn knell,
One grave shall hold, one turf shall cover both.