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A La Bourbon. Done Moy Plus De Pitie Ou Plus De Creaulte, Car
Sans Ci Ie Ne Puis Pas Viure, Ne Morir by Richard Lovelace |
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I.
Divine
Destroyer, pitty me no more,
Or else more pitty me;
Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more,
Or else
more cruelty!
For left thus as I am,
My heart is
ice and flame;
And languishing thus, I
Can neither
live nor dye!
II.
Your glories are eclipst,
and hidden in the grave
Of this indifferency;
And,
Caelia, you can neither altars have,
Nor I, a Diety:
They are aspects divine,
That still or smile, or
shine,
Or, like th' offended sky,
Frowne death
immediately.
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