A SONG. Elizabeth Rowe (née Singer) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. R7317 A57734 Rowe, Elizabeth Singer, 1674-1737. Poems on several occasions. Written by Philomela. London Printed for John Dunton at the Raven in Jewen-street 1696 pp. 44-45. [24],72,69,[11]p.; 8⁰

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A SONG . HE's gone the bright way that his honour directs him , Oh all ye kind powers let me beg you protect him . He's gone my Dear — and left me here mourning ; But hang these dull thoughts , I'le fancy him returning . Returning , I'le think the great Hero Victorious , With joy to my Arms as faithful as Glorious . Against his bright Eyes , I am sure there's no standing ; He looks like a God , and moves as Commanding . With a Face so Angelick the Foe will be charmed The Conquest were his tho he met'em disarm'd . They could not ( be sure ) of a rational nature , That wou'd not relent at so moving a feature . Venus disguis'd he'el be thought by his Beauty ; And spar'd from the sense of a generous Duty . Yet when I reflect on the Wounded and Dying , In spight of my Courage it sets me a sighing . But the resolute brave no danger can stay him , Tho' I us'd all my Charms and Arts to delay him . Yet oh ye kind powers you are bound to protect him , Since he'es gone the bright way that Glory directs him .