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SONG.
[In mine one Monument I lye]
1
In mine one Monument I lye,And in my Self am buried;
Sure the quick Lightning of her Eye
Melted my Soul ith' Scabberd, dead;
And now like some pale ghost I walk,
And with anothers Spirit talk.
2
Nor can her beams a heat conveyThat may my frozen bosome warm,
Unless her Smiles have pow'r, as they
That a cross charm can countercharm;
But this is such a pleasing pain,
I'm loth to be alive again.
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