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The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley

Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed: And Those which he Design'd for the Press, Now Published out of the Authors Original Copies ... The Text Edited by A. R. Waller

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The Thraldome.

1

I came, I Saw, and was undone;
Lightning did through my bones and marrow run;
A pointed pain pierc'd deep my heart;
A swift, cold trembling seiz'd on every part;
My head turn'd round, nor could it bear
The Poison that was enter'd there.

2

So a destroying Angels breath
Blows in the Plague, and with it hasty Death.
Such was the pain, did so begin
To the poor wretch, when Legion entred in.
Forgive me, God, I cry'd; for I
Flatter'd my self I was to dye.

3

But quickly to my Cost I found,
'Twas cruel Love, not Death had made the wound:
Death a more generous rage does use;
Quarter to all he conquers does refuse.
Whilst Love with barbarous mercy saves
The vanquisht lives to make them slaves.

68

4

I am thy slave then; let me know,
Hard Master, the great task I have to do:
Who pride and scorn do undergo,
In tempests and rough Seas thy Galleys row;
They pant, and groan, and sigh, but find
Their sighs encrease the angry wind.

5

Like an Egyptian Tyrant, some
Thou weariest out, in building but a Tomb.
Others with sad and tedious art,
Labour i'the' Quarries of a stony Heart;
Of all the works thou dost assign,
To all the several slaves of thine,
Employ me, mighty Love, to dig the Mine.