 | Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique |  |
SONG XVIII.
[Fair, give me leave, to Love]
1
Fair, give me leave, to Love,Or Love to Leave,
The suit, my gentle hopes, promove
Your wilder scornes deceive,
I swear, by those bright Eyes,
(Love's Heavenly Mysteries)
And by those Downes of Snow,
I'me still Resolv'd to Love.
24
Shall not my Prayers, your pitty move,
To Love me too?
Or must thine Eyes,
Still exercise,
Their Tyranise,
And I, (sad I) neglected go?
2
They must, they must; I wouldNot have her Love
Upon such terms, now, though she could
My high Desires approve,
Tis more then happiness
To have the fair success
To Love, and only so.
I hate a mutual heat?
It spoiles the sport,
And so disrellishes the feat
We care not for't.
If my desire,
Can but aspire,
Her, to Admire,
I care not wher'e she'le Love, or noe.
| Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique | |