C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Penthea’s Dying Song

By John Ford (1586–c. 1640)

OH, no more, no more,—too late;

Sighs are spent; the burning tapers

Of a life as chaste as fate,

Pure as are unwritten papers,

Are burnt out; no heat, no light

Now remains; ’tis ever night.

Love is dead; let lovers’ eyes

Locked in endless dreams,

Th’ extremes of all extremes,

Ope no more, for now Love dies;

Now Love dies—implying

Love’s martyrs must be ever, ever dying.

- GENERAL INDEX - SONGS & LYRICS - QUICK INDEX - BIOGRAPHIES - READER’S DIGEST - STUDENT’S COURSE - PORTRAITS - BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD