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Poem by Francis Beaumont


The Author to the Reader


I sing the fortune of a luckless pair,
Whose spotless souls now in one body be;
For beauty still is Prodromus to care,
Crost by the sad stars of nativity:
And of the strange enchantment of a well,
Given by the Gods, my sportive muse doth write,
Which sweet-lipp'd Ovid long ago did tell,
Wherein who bathes, straight turns Hermaphrodite:
 I hope my poem is so lively writ,
 That thou wilt turn half-mad with reading it.



Francis Beaumont


Francis Beaumont's other poems:
  1. The Glance
  2. On the Marriage of a Beauteous Young Gentlewoman with an Ancient Man
  3. A Funeral Elegy on the Death of the Lady Penelope Clifton
  4. Upon the Silent Woman
  5. To My Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, on His Fox


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