Absence

Like wretches banish'd where no Sun appears,
Your hopeless Lover all his suff'rings bears.
Darkness and horrours spread before my view,
I knew no light, since here remov'd from you.
Yet still thy Image in my Breast I bear,
Spight of my Soul, I find you always there.
Would to my Thoughts you might be absent too,
[…] Thoughts alas! do all my Pangs renew.
My fancy brings thee to my ravish'd Eyes,
But ah! thy form ev'n from my fancy flyes.
O'twere some ease to all the pains I feel,
If I knew when I could remove the ill.
But to the damn'd revolving Ages prove
A Hell of Absence, not a Heav'n of Love.
Eternal Racks, and Tortures must I […],
And know no change, but to more deep despair.
Unhappy Orpheus, of his Wife bereft,
With sad remorse the gloomy Mansions left.
Lethe's dark streams he did to light prefer,
Yet, spight of Lethe, he remember'd her.
On those sad Banks the tuneful Poet […],
And with regret back to the World return'd.
Worse far than his my fated ills I find,
'Twas Hell he […], but I leave Heav'n behind.