The Heart-breaking.
1
It gave a piteous groan, and so it broke;
In vain it something would have spoke:
The Love within too strong for't was,
Like Poyson put into a Venice-Glass.
2
I thought that this some Remedy might prove,
But, oh, the mighty Serpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces small,
In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.
3
And now (alas) each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my Heart:
And every smallest corner still
Lives with that torment which the Whole did kill.
4
Even so rude Armies when the field they quit,
And into several Quarters get;
Each Troop does spoil and ruine more,
Then all joyn'd in one Body did before.
5
How many Loves raign in my bosom now?
How many Loves, yet all of you?
Thus have I chang'd with evil fate
My Monarch-Love into a Tyrant-State.