 | Poems Divine, and Humane |  |
The new Petition.
Apollo once disdained not to keepe,So he might keepe, his love Admetus sheepe.
The distaffe Hercules did exercise,
T'extract a smile from his deare Ladies eyes:
Olympicke Joane disdained not to take
A bull's effigies for Europus sake:
Achilles fitter farre to deale with steele,
Did labour for his Mistresse at the reele.
Love spar'd Leander his pledg'd faith to save,
Died, hugging in his armes the murdering wave,
Whil'st a new death his Heroe doth devise,
And drownd her selfe ith Ocean of her eyes.
By Pyramus, the world did understand
That love and life, lay linked hand in hand.
Through the peirc't portals of his wound, yet new;
Which when his Thisbe saw, 'tis hard to say,
Whose spirit posted fastest on the way.
Thus some dejection, others did invade
Great opposition, and have willingly laid,
Their lives at needlesse hazzard, some have died,
And so have to the utmost satisfied
What tyrant love could force, and beyond this,
The great and true non ultra fixed is.
Yet happy this, since what so e're they tryed,
Was on their Mistresse part regratified.
Oh who would, when he saw an equall flame
Of love in her he lov'd, owe so much shame
As to esteeme his life, if her least griefe,
Did but invite his blood for her reliefe
But this forenamed courteous Ghosts can beare
Mee witnesse, I have shed full many a teare,
Spoke the best language, Rhetoricke affords,
Limb'd out my heart even to the life in words,
Would, what they did, did like occasion proffer,
And till that, do I can no more, but offer.
And yet for all my sufferings, shee that is,
If I dare reach to call her so, my blisse,
Slights all my sorrowes; Oh what eye could now
Forbeare to yeeld a teare, when seeing how
I love, I am neglected; weepe with mee
All you that read my wrongs, so if you be
Compassionate, perhaps your teares may move
The frozen Mercy of my ice-white love.
Which if they doe, if you at any time
Shall want a drop, I'le lend you some of mine:
Methinkes I see you weepe deare Mistresse then,
Doth waft mee to your favour, if you daigne,
Yet now at last to ease mee of my paine,
This glory shall unto your mercy rise,
That you have wip't all teares from lovers eyes.
| Poems Divine, and Humane | |