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When from your well-wrought cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it,
And hear it breathe a sigh or two;
And laugh at me as dispossess'd;
Wilt rather send again for me,
THE CONCEALMENT. No; to what purpose should I speak ? No, wretched heart! swell till you
break. She cannot love me if she would ; And, to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.
No; to the grave thy sorrows bear;
As silent as they will be there :
So handsomely the thing contrive,
So perish, that her killing thee
'Tis nobler much for me, that I
This will look justly, and become
The censuring world will ne'er refrain
She must be angry, sure, if I should be
So bold to ask her to make me,
I will not; 'tis a milder fate
And yet this death of mine, I fear,
When, sound in every other part,
breath. Then shall the world
noble ruin see, Some pity and some envy me; Then she herself, the mighty she,
Shall grace my funerals with this truth; “ 'Twas only Love destroy'd the gentle youth!”
What mines of sulphur in my breast do lie,
heart! Not Etna flames more fierce or constantly, The sounding shop of Vulcan's smoky art:
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupid's forge is set up here.
Ah, cruel God! and why to me
I have the trouble, not the gains, of it:
So sweet's revenge to me, that I,
Upon my foe would gladly die. Deep into her bosom would I strike the dart, Deeper than woman e'er was struck by thee; Thou givest them small wounds, and so far from
Curse on thy goodness, whom we find
Vain God! who woman dost thyself adore !
So'unjustly are distributed,
I've followed thee a year, at least,
But yet can thee o’ertake no more
In this our fortunes equal prove
them above; Our stars, that move for ever round, With the same distance still betwixt them found.
In vain, alas ! in vain I strive
Since, if around it swiftlier fly,
Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are,
Tamelier than worms are lovers slain ;
Than I had done before ;
Why should my love do so?
A real cause at first did move;
With shadows from itself that flow.
My love, as we in numbers see,
Took their first turn from the’ hand of Jove;
prove; But, by the length, 'tis plain to see That Love's a motion natural to me.
Have I endeavoured hitherto
Though so discreet and good she be,
That something like it they have shown;
Can no arts or disguises find,
Love of himself left there a part,
But keep the secret wisely, yet,
LOOKING ON, AND, DISCOURSING
WITH, HIS MISTRESS. These full two hours now have I gazing been, .
What comfort by it can I gain?
Was the great miser's greatest pain ;
As with the bless'd converse he might,