Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CIVILL WARR, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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CIVILL WARR, by            
First Line: Untoward passions, peace: I'm wearied quite
Last Line: Of mine will help: sweet jesu lend me aid.
Subject(s): Anger; Self-consciousness; War

UNTOWARD passions, peace: I'm wearied quite:
I will allow
Only my Anger now,
To lash herselfe, & you:
Rise Anger, rise and arme; 'tis time to fight.

Is it not time, now faint ignoble feare
By Cowardize
Numbers her Victories;
And ever as She flyes
Leaves conquer'd Mee Captive to helplesse Care?

Is it not time, now Love, that Towring Thing,
Forgets to fly
At Objects brave & high,
And heer content to lie
In filthy puddles wets his Noble Wing?

Is it not time, now fond Greife wasts my Teares
(And all in vaine)
Not on my soules foule staine,
Which both their Springs might draine
But on some idle disappointed Cares?

Is it not time, when Zeale hath lost its Eyes,
Yet runs as fast
As when ye Northern Blast
Makes its most headlong hast
And knows as little to what end it flies?

Is it not time, when Thou thy Selfe art spent,
But not on Mee
Nor on thy Selfe, though wee
Are onely fit to bee
The marks at which thine Arrows should be bent?

'Tis time to fight. But oh! I am betray'd!
These Rebells are
Allready got so far
Into my Heart, no care
Of mine will help: Sweet Jesu lend me aid.

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