Poems upon several Occasions | ||
SONG.
[Forbear, fond God, forbear your Dart]
I
Forbear, fond God, forbear your Dart,Seek not to wound a Dying Heart;
At Chloe's Feet it gasping lies,
A bleeding Victim to Her Conqu'ring Eyes.
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II
From Her, Death's such a pleasing Pain,I wish to Live, to Dye again:
With Joy to him the Blow is giv'n,
That has so near a Prospect of his Heav'n.
III
You, and the little Loves all flyTo light their Torches at Her Eye.
By Her alone Love's Empires thrive,
This Vestal keeps Love's Sacred Fire alive.
IV
Then, Chloe, 'tis not strange that YouWeak Mortals yielding Hearts subdue,
Since You another Venus prove,
And give New Being to the God of Love.
Poems upon several Occasions | ||