 | Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished |  |
8
Les Amours.
Tyrant farewell: This heart, the prize
And triumph of thy scornfull eyes,
I sacrifice to Heaven, and give
To quit my sinnes, that durst believe
A Womans easie faith, and place
True joyes in a changing face.
And triumph of thy scornfull eyes,
I sacrifice to Heaven, and give
To quit my sinnes, that durst believe
A Womans easie faith, and place
True joyes in a changing face.
Yet e're I goe; by all those teares,
And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes, and feares;
By thy owne glories, and that houre
Which first inslav'd me to thy power;
I beg, faire One, by this last breath,
This tribute from thee after death.
If when I'm gone, you chance to see
That cold bed where I lodged bee:
Let not your hate in death appeare,
But blesse my ashes with a teare:
This influxe from that quickning eye,
By secret pow'r, which none can spie,
The cold dust shall informe, and make
Those flames (though dead) new life partake.
Whose warmth help'd by your tears shall bring,
O're all the tombe a sudden spring:
If Crimson flowers, whose drooping heads
Shall curtaine o're their mournfull heads:
And on each leafe by Heavens command,
These Emblemes to the life shall stand:
And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes, and feares;
9
Which first inslav'd me to thy power;
I beg, faire One, by this last breath,
This tribute from thee after death.
If when I'm gone, you chance to see
That cold bed where I lodged bee:
Let not your hate in death appeare,
But blesse my ashes with a teare:
This influxe from that quickning eye,
By secret pow'r, which none can spie,
The cold dust shall informe, and make
Those flames (though dead) new life partake.
Whose warmth help'd by your tears shall bring,
O're all the tombe a sudden spring:
10
Shall curtaine o're their mournfull heads:
And on each leafe by Heavens command,
These Emblemes to the life shall stand:
Two Hearts, the first a shast withstood;
The second, shot, and washt in bloud;
And on this heart a dew shall stay,
Which no heate can court away;
But fixt for ever witnesse beares,
That hearty sorrow feeds on teares.
Thus Heaven can make it knowne, and true,
That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.
The second, shot, and washt in bloud;
And on this heart a dew shall stay,
Which no heate can court away;
But fixt for ever witnesse beares,
That hearty sorrow feeds on teares.
Thus Heaven can make it knowne, and true,
That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.
| Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished | |