| |
| SHALL Love, that gave Latona’s heir the foil, | |
| (Proud of his archery and Python’s spoil,) | |
| And so enthrall’d him to a nymph’s disdain | |
| As, when his hopes were dead, he, full of pain, | |
| Made him above all trees the laurel grace, | 5 |
| An emblem of Love’s glory, his disgrace; | |
| Shall he, I say, be term’d a foot-boy now | |
| Which made all powers in heaven and earth to bow? | |
| Or is’t a fancy which themselves do frame, | |
| And therefore dare baptize by any name? | 10 |
| A flaming straw! which one spark kindles bright, | |
| And first hard breath out of itself doth fright; | |
| Whose father was a smile, and death a frown, | |
| Soon proud of little and for less cast down? | |
| ’Tis so! and this a lackey term you may, | 15 |
| For it runs oft and makes but shortest stay. | |
| But thou, O Love! free from Time’s eating rust, | |
| That set’st a limit unto boundless lust, | |
| Making desire grow infinitely strong, | |
| And yet to one chaste subject still belong; | 20 |
| Bridling self-love, that flatters us in ease, | |
| Quick’ning our wits to strive that they may please; | |
| Fixing the wand’ring thoughts of straying youth, | |
| The firmest bond of Faith, the knot of Truth; | |
| Thou that didst never lodge in worthless heart, | 25 |
| Thou art a master wheresoe’er thou art. | |
| Thou makest food loathsome, sleep to be unrest, | |
| Lost labour easeful, scornful looks a feast; | |
| And when thou wilt, thy joys as far excel | |
| All else as, when thou punishest, thy Hell. | 30 |
| O make that rebel feel thy matchless power, | |
| Thou that madest Jove a bull, a swan, a shower. | |
| Give him a love as tyrannous as fair, | |
| That his desire go yokèd with despair. | |
| Live in her eyes, but in her frozen heart | 35 |
| Let no thaw come that may have sense of smart. | |
| Let her a constant silence never break, | |
| Till he do wish repulse to hear her speak; | |
| And last, such sense of error may him have | |
| As he may never dare for mercy crave. | 40 |
| Then none will more capitulate with thee, | |
| But of their hearts will yield the empire free. | |
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