The Works of Thomas Campion Complete Songs, Masques, and Treatises with a Selection of the Latin Verse: Edited with an introduction and notes by Walter R. Davis |
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The Works of Thomas Campion | ||
180
XIII.
[O Love, where are thy Shafts, thy Quiver, and thy Bow?]
O Love, where are thy Shafts, thy Quiver, and thy Bow?
Shall my wounds onely weepe, and hee ungaged goe?
Be just, and strike him, to, that dares contemne thee so.
Shall my wounds onely weepe, and hee ungaged goe?
Be just, and strike him, to, that dares contemne thee so.
No eyes are like to thine, though men suppose thee blinde,
So fayre they levell when the marke they list to finde:
Then strike, o strike the heart that beares the cruell minde.
So fayre they levell when the marke they list to finde:
Then strike, o strike the heart that beares the cruell minde.
Is my fond sight deceived? or doe I Cupid spye
Close ayming at his breast, by whom despis'd I dye?
Shoot home, sweet Love, and wound him, that hee may not flye!
Close ayming at his breast, by whom despis'd I dye?
Shoot home, sweet Love, and wound him, that hee may not flye!
O then we both will sit in some unhaunted shade,
And heale each others wound which Love hath justly made:
O hope, o thought too vaine, how quickly dost thou fade!
And heale each others wound which Love hath justly made:
O hope, o thought too vaine, how quickly dost thou fade!
At large he wanders still, his heart is free from paine,
While secret sighes I spend, and teares, but all in vaine:
Yet, Love, thou know'st, by right I should not thus complaine.
While secret sighes I spend, and teares, but all in vaine:
Yet, Love, thou know'st, by right I should not thus complaine.
The Works of Thomas Campion | ||