An Answer to a Letter, from a Souldier Comerad, while in the Camp by William Cleland

I have Received thy Line, thy Heart
With a thrice sad adiew;
Which so my Marble Breast did smart,
That makes me to avow:
Tho hard it be in Friendship true
And still Resolves to be,
That hates to lose but still Renew
Especially with thee.

Thy Heart of Gold I do append,
To this my Marble Breast,
There to Remain, till Death shall send
It’s Breathing to arrest;
Then I’m content that she or he,
That shall the same unloose,
In this succeed to me and thee,
In Heart and Breasts dispose.

But since these Fates thou’rt mind to try,
In Sympathy with thee;
These severall risks, I’m mind to run;
But sure our Company
Would help full sweet and gratefull be;
These leaden showers before,
But let’s not blame out Destiny,
But rather hope the more,

Our meeting, I do not Despair,
But till it chance to come,
No other Musick I will care,
But shot and tuck of Drum.
My feeble Meeter up I’le summ;
No muse I’le more implore,
But rather wish they may sing dumb,
And hear the Cannon Roar,

No Venus smile, no twinkling eyes,
No specious Graceful port,
Which weakly mortals oft surprise,
Shall Lines from me extort.
I’le me demane in such a sort,
That nought but Languid Prose,
My Souls intentions shall Report,
Thrice thrice adiew I close.

From: Cleland, William, A Collection of Several Poems and Verses Composed Upon by Various Occasions, 2003, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, pp. 126-127.
(http://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A33400.0001.001/1:6.3?rgn=div2;view=fulltext)

Date: 1697 (published)

By: William Cleland (c1661-1689)

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