ALAS, it is too late! I can no more Love now than I have lov'd before: My Flora, 'tis my fate, not I; And what you call contempt is destiny. I am no monster, sure: I cannot show Two hearts; one I already owe; And I have bound myself with oaths, and vow'd Oft'ner, I fear, than Heaven hath e'er allow'd, That faces now should work no more on me, Than if they could not charm, or I not see. And shall I break them? shall I think you can Love, if I could, so foul a perjur'd man? Oh no, 'tis equally impossible that I Should love again, or you love perjury. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 30. THE HUNTER CAUGHT BY HIS OWN GAMER by PHILIP AYRES HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 15 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN SMYTH, CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) WORLD MUSIC by FRANCES LOUISA BUSHNELL ON THE EPICUREAN, STOIC, AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY by JOHN BYROM |