Farewell, Fair Armida. A Song

Farewell, fair Armida, my joy and my grief! In vain I have loved you, and hope no relief; Undone by your virtue, too strict and severe, Your eyes gave me love, and you gave me despair: Now called by my honour, I seek with content The fate which in pity you would not prevent: To languish in love were to find, by delay, A death that's more welcome the speediest way. On seas and in battles, in bullets and fire, The danger is less than in hopeless desire; My death's wound you give me, though far off I bear My fall from your sight—not to cost you a tear: But if the kind flood on a wave should convey, And under your window my body should lay, The wound on my breast when you happen to see, You'll say with a sigh—it was given by me.