WRONG me no more In thy complaint, Blam'd for inconstancy; I vow'd t'adore The fairest Saint, Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she: But if another thee outshine, Th' inconstancy is only thine. To be by such Blind fools admir'd, Gives thee but small esteem, By whom as much Thou'dst be desir'd, Didst thou less beauteous seem: Sure why they love they know not well, Who why they should not cannot tell. Women are by Themselves betray'd, And to their short joys cruel, Who foolishly Themselves persuade Flames can outlast their fuel; None (though Platonic their pretence) With reason love unless by sense. And He, by whose Command to thee I did my heart resign, Now bids me choose A Deity Diviner far than thine; No power can Love from Beauty sever; I'm still Love's subject, thine was never. The fairest She Whom none surpass To love hath only right, And such to me Thy beauty was Till one I found more bright; But 'twere as impious to adore Thee now, as not t' have done't before. Nor is it just By rules of Love Thou shouldst deny to quit A heart that must Another's prove, Ev'n in thy right to it; Must not thy subjects captives be To her who triumphs over Thee? Cease then in vain To blot my name With forg'd Apostasy, Thine is that stain Who dar'st to claim What others ask of Thee. Of Lovers they are only true Who pay their hearts where they are due. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAINST THEM WHO LAY UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMAN by WILLIAM HABINGTON STRANGE MEETINGS: 10 by HAROLD MONRO ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 64 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE BLUEBIRD by WILLIAM P. ALEXANDER THE GODODDIN: CONAN by ANEIRIN ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS ARMSTRONG THE FIRST SNOW by J. B. BENTON |