Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ODE (2), by CHARLES COTTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ODE (2), by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Is't come to this, that we must part?
Last Line: Not half enough to part with thee.
Subject(s): Love


IS'T come to this, that we must part?
Then Heav'n is turn'd all cruelty,
And Fate has neither eyes nor heart,
Or else (my Sweet) it could not be.

She's a blind Deity I'm sure:
For woeful sights compassion move,
And Heav'nly minds could ne'er endure
To persecute the truest love.

Love is the highest attribute
Of pow'rs unknown we mortals know;
For that all homage we commute,
From that all good, and mercies flow.

And can there be a Deity
In those eternal seats above,
Will own so dire a cruelty,
As thus to punish faithful love?

Oh Heav'nly pow'rs! be good and just,
Cherish the law yourselves have made,
We else in vain in virtue trust,
And by Religion are betray'd.

Oh! punish me some other way
For other sins, but this is none;
Take all the rest you gave away,
But let my dearest Dear alone.

Strip me as into th' world I came,
I never shall dispute your will,
Or strike me dumb, deaf, blind or lame,
But let me have Chlorinda still.

Why was she given me at all?
I thought indeed the gift too great
For my poor merit; but withal
I always knew to value it.

I first by you was worthy made,
Next by her choice; let me not prove
Blasphemous, if I'm not afraid
To say most worthy by my love.

And must I then be damn'd from bliss
For valuing the blessing more,
Be wretched made through happiness,
And by once being rich more poor?

This separation is, alas!
Too great a punishment to bear,
Oh! take my life, or let me pass
That life, that happy life, with her.

O my Chlorinda! couldst thou see
Into the bottom of my heart,
There's such a mine of love for thee,
The treasure would supply desert.

Let the King send me where he please,
Ready at drum and trumpet's call,
I'll fight at home, or cross the seas,
His soldier, but Chlorinda's thrall.

No change of diet, or of air,
In me can a distemper breed;
And if I fall it should be fair,
Since 'tis her blood that I'm to bleed.

And falling so I nothing fear
A noble death of living fame;
And who shall then be by, may hear,
In my last groans, Chlorinda's name.

But I am not proscrib'd to die,
My adversaries are too wise;
More rigour and less charity
Condemns me from Chlorinda's eyes.

Ah cruel sentence, and severe!
That is a thousand deaths in one;
Oh! let me die before I hear
A sound of separation.

And yet it is decreed, I see,
The race of men are now combin'd,
Though I still keep the body free,
To persecute a loyal mind.

And that's the worst that man can do,
To banish me Chlorinda's sight,
Yet will my heart continue true,
Maugre their power and their spite.

Meanwhile my exit now draws nigh,
When, sweet Chlorinda, thou shalt see
That I have heart enough to die,
Not half enough to part with thee.





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