Poetry Archives

Love in fantastic triumph sate
  Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,
For whom fresh pains he did create
  And strange tyrannic power he show’d:
From thy bright eyes he took his fires,
  Which round about in sport he hurl’d;
But ’twas from mine he took desires
  Enough t’ undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
  From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
  And every killing dart from thee.
Thus thou and I the god have arm’d
  And set him up a deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm’d,
  Whilst thine the victor is, and free!