Poems by Matthew Stevenson | ||
An Answer to a Song call'd Fair Archybella to whose eyes, &c.
1
My Dearest) Archybella's eyes,Though ne're so fair shall not dispise,
But own thy loyal sacrifice.
2
Nay, were she cruel, and a while,Her frowns like Midnight day exile,
'Twere noon again shouldst thou but smile.
3
We like our Lodging and protest,So you provide a faithful breast,
To vow our self Your constant guest.
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4
Nor need You fear since You impartYour Wounds so fresh, but we have Art,
And Balsom too, to ease Your smart.
5
Let not a thought that Death may give,Molest thee, doubt not thou to live
If smiles or Tears may but reprieve.
6
Dread not (my Dear) so dire a doom,Forbid it Heaven, the hour should come
That thou shouldst suffer Martyrdom.
Poems by Matthew Stevenson | ||