Comments about John Chalkhill
Thealma And Clearchus
Scarce had the Ploughman yoak'd his horned Team,
And lock'd their Traces to the crooked Beam,
When fair Thealma with a Maiden scorn,
That day before her rise, out blusht the morn
Scarce had the Sun gilded the Mountain tops,
When forth she leads her tender Ewes, and hopes
The day would recompence the sad affrights
Her Love-sick heart did struggle with a-nights.
Down to the Plains the poor Thealma wends,
Full of sad thoughts, and many a sigh she sends
Before her, which the Air stores up in vain
She sucks them back, to breath them out again.