TO DELIA: 26 by SAMUEL DANIEL

Whilst by her eyes pursued, my poor heart flew it
Into the sacred bosom of my dearest,
She there in that sweet sanctuary slew it,
Where it presumed his safety to be nearest.
My privilege of faith could not protect it,
That was with blood and three years' witness signed;
In all which time she never could suspect it,
For well she saw my love, and how I pined.
And yet no comfort would her brow reveal me,
No light'ning look, which falling hopes erecteth;
What boots to laws of succor to appeal me?
Ladies and tyrants never laws respecteth.
Then there I die, where hoped I to have liven,
And by that hand, which better might have given.

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