Tixall Poetry/Belinda

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LXVIII.

Belinda.

Shee is gon, gon for ever, the nimph I adore!Now fortune and love can be cruell noe more; ​Now, fate, I defie thee to punish me worse,For without my Belinda my life's but a curse:The thought of past pleasure increases my paine,When I sadly reflect she will nere come againe.
Belinda forsaken by him she loves best,Returns all her scorne on her true lover's breast:Philander in pitty to love her inclin'd,Was banish'd, that Strephon againe might prove kind.Soe he that loves ill, is fortunate made,And he that loves well is for loving betraid.

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