On A Lady’s Hurting Her Hand with the Author’s Sword by John Duncombe

A Fate like mine, as poets sing,
The son of Tydeus found,
Who durst on Beauty’s Queen inflict
A sacrilegious wound.

But deeper is the wound I feel,
And keener is the smart,
Since Venus’ self must own the hand
Less tender than the heart.

From: Fawkes, Francis and Woty, William (eds.), The poetical calendar: Containing a collection of scarce and valuable pieces of poetry: … by the most eminent hands. Intended as a supplement to Mr. Dodsley’s collection. 2008, University of Michigan Library: Ann Arbor, Michigan, p. 80.

Date: 1763

By: John Duncombe (1729-1786)


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