 | Poems (1983) |  |
[Love thy powerfull hand withdraw]
Love thy powerfull hand withdraw,All doe yeeld unto thy law;
Rebells now thy subjects bee,
Bound they are who late were free,
Most confess thy power, and might,
All harts yeeld unto thy right;
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Souls doe strive thy joys to see;
Pitty then, and mercy give
Unto them wher you doe live;
They your images doe prove,
In them may you see great love;
They your mirours, you theyr eye
By which they true love doe spy.
Cease awhile theyr cruell smarts
And beehold theyr yeelding harts;
Greater glory 'tis to save
When that you a conquest have
Then with tiranny to press
Which still make the honor les;
Gods doe prinses hands direct,
Then to thes have some respect.
| Poems (1983) | |