Flow not so fast, ye fountains!
What needeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend your time in waste!
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Weep not apace, whom Reason
Or lingering Time can ease!
My sorrow can no season,
Nor ought besides appease.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain:
But common grief is error,
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
What if I never speed!
Shall I straight yield to despair?
And still, on sorrow feed,
That can no loss repair?
Or shall I change my love;
For I find power to depart;
And, in my reason, prove
I can command my heart!
But if she will pity my Desire, and my Love requite;
Then ever shall she live my dear delight!
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!
Oft have I dreamed of joy,
Yet never felt the sweet;
But, tired with annoy,
My griefs each other greet!
Oft have I left my hope,
As a wretch by fate forlorn;
But Love aims at one scope,
And lost will still return.
He that once loves with a true desire, never can depart!
For Cupid is the King of every heart.
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!