 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
297
Despair.
ODE.
It is decreed, that I must dy,
And could lost men a reason show
For losing so themselves, 'tis I,
Woman, and Fate will have it so.
And could lost men a reason show
For losing so themselves, 'tis I,
Woman, and Fate will have it so.
Woman, more cruel, than my Fate,
From thee this sentence was severe,
'Tis thou condemn'st me, fair ingrate,
Fate's but the Executioner.
From thee this sentence was severe,
'Tis thou condemn'st me, fair ingrate,
Fate's but the Executioner.
And mine must be Fate's hands to strike
At this uncomfortable life,
Which I do loath, cause you dislike,
And court cold Death to be my wife.
At this uncomfortable life,
Which I do loath, cause you dislike,
And court cold Death to be my wife.
In whose embraces though I must
Fail of those Joyes, that warm'd my heart,
And only be espous'd to dust,
Yet Death, and I shall never part.
Fail of those Joyes, that warm'd my heart,
298
Yet Death, and I shall never part.
That's one assurance I shall have,
Although I wed Deformity,
And must inhabit the cold Grave,
More than I, Sweet, could have with thee.
Although I wed Deformity,
And must inhabit the cold Grave,
More than I, Sweet, could have with thee.
And yet if thou could'st be so kind,
As but to grant me a Reprieve,
I'me not to Death so much inclind,
But I could be content to live.
As but to grant me a Reprieve,
I'me not to Death so much inclind,
But I could be content to live.
But so, that that same life should be
With thee, and with thy kindness blest;
For without thee, and all of thee,
'Twere dying only with the rest.
With thee, and with thy kindness blest;
For without thee, and all of thee,
'Twere dying only with the rest.
But that, you'l say's, too arrogant,
T'enslave your Beauties, and your will,
And cruelty in you to grant,
Who saving one, must Thousands kill.
T'enslave your Beauties, and your will,
And cruelty in you to grant,
Who saving one, must Thousands kill.
299
And yet you Women take a pride
To see men dye by your disdain;
But thou wilt weep the Homicide,
When thou consider'st whom th' ast slain.
To see men dye by your disdain;
But thou wilt weep the Homicide,
When thou consider'st whom th' ast slain.
Yet don't; for being as I am,
Thy Creature, thou in this estate,
To Life, and Death hast equal claim,
And may'st kill him thou did'st create.
Thy Creature, thou in this estate,
To Life, and Death hast equal claim,
And may'st kill him thou did'st create.
Then let me thine own Doom abide,
Nor once for him o'recast thine eyes,
Who glories, that he liv'd, and dy'd
Thy Lover, and thy Sacrifice.
Nor once for him o'recast thine eyes,
Who glories, that he liv'd, and dy'd
Thy Lover, and thy Sacrifice.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |