Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COMBAT, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT



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THE COMBAT, by            
First Line: Love, though thou great & dreadfull art
Last Line: Else can my hart no more be mine.
Subject(s): Love; Prayer; War


LOVE, though thou great & dreadfull art,
With Boldnes Thou hast fir'd my Hart,
Which trembles not to aim at Thee
Ev'n with that Dart Thou shott'st at Me:
Twas Love Thou shott'st; & that art Thou;
And at thy Self thy Self I throw.
I throw thy Self; but loe my Hart
Still sticking is upon thy Dart.

2. PART

And dost Thou shoot, dear LORD, again
At him whome Thou before hadst slain?
This Deaths Life kills me so, that I
Must shoot again, or else I dy.
I dy, unless I live to see
This Hart & Life quite lost in Thee.
Fair is my Aim, & high my Trust;
Thy Side's wide ope, & shoot I must.
Lo: Bid it welcome unto Thine,
Else can my Hart no more be mine.





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