Epigram 42: I breathe in sighs; for half my soul

I breathe in sighs; for half my soul
By love or death was lately stole:
Perhaps the fool, too surely gone,
Is now possess’d by love alone,
And to some beauteous boy draws nigh,
From whom I warn’d him oft to fly.
Retire, my soul, lest thou shouldst prove
The pangs of unsuccessful love ;
For well I know thou’lt soon return
In anguish, and dismiss’d with scorn.