Ayres and Dialogues | ||
Song 55. Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain
[I]
Alass! alass! thou turn'st in vainThy beauteous face away,
Which (like young Sorcerers) rais'd a Pain
Above its power to lay.
II
Love moves not as thou turn'st thy look,But here doth firmly rest;
He long agoe thy Eyes forsook
To revel in my Brest.
III
Thy Power on him why hop'st thou moreThen his on me should be,
The Claim thou lay'st to him is poor
To that he owns from Me.
IV
His substance in my Heart excels,His shadow in thy Sight;
Fire where it burns more truly dwels,
Then where it scatters light.
Ayres and Dialogues | ||