On the Banks of the Severn a desperate Maid <br />(Whom some Shepherd, neglecting his Vows, had betray'd,) <br />Stood resolving to banish all Sense of the Pain, <br />And pursue, thro' her Death, a Revenge on the Swain. <br />Since the Gods, and my Passion, at once he defies; <br />Since his Vanity lives, whilst my Character dies; <br />No more (did she say) will I trifle with Fate, <br />But commit to the Waves both my Love and my Hate. <br />And now to comply with that furious Desire, <br />Just ready to plunge, and alone to expire, <br />Some Reflection on Death, and its Terrors untry'd, <br />Some Scorn for the Shepherd, some Flashings of Pride <br />At length pull'd her back, and she cry'd, Why this Strife, <br />Since the Swains are so Many, and I've but One Life?<br /><br />Anne Kingsmill Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/la-passion-vaincue/
