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6
O! for what crime is my torn heart,
Condemn’d to suffer deathless smart?
Like sad Prometheus thus to lie,
In endless pain, and never die.
LET AMBITION FIRE THY MIND.
Let ambition fire thy mind,
thou wert born o’er men to reign;
Not to follow flocks design’d;
scorn thy crook and leave the plain,
Crowns I’ll throw beneath thy feet
thou on necks of kings shall tread;
Joys incircling joys shall meet,
which way e'er thy fancy lead.
Let not spoils of empire fright;
toils of empire pleasure are;
Thou shalt not only know delight,
all the joy but not the care.
Shepherd, if thou'lt yield the prize,
for the blessing I bestow.
Joyful I'll ascend the skies,
happy thou shalt reign below.
