While on those lovely looks I gaze To see a wretch pursuing, In raptures of a blest amaze, His pleasing, happy ruin, 'Tis not for pity that I move: His fate is too aspiring Whose heart, broke with a load of love, Dies wishing and admiring. But if this murder you'd forgo, Your slave from death removing, Let me your art of charming know, Or learn you mine of loving. But whether life or death betide, In love 'tis equal measure: The victor lives with empty pride, The vanquished die with pleasure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE NAMES by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE AT THE SAND CREEK BRIDGE by JAMES GALVIN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 12. TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET by MARK AKENSIDE |