Tixall Poetry.
119
Since I now willingly do yield
To Cloe's beauty all the field.
To Cloe's beauty all the field.
With greater ioy I did resigne
My freedome, though thou still keepst thine:
And am resolv'd constant to prove,
Should her neglect transend my love.
Strange charmes they are that make me burne,
Without the hope of a returne!
My freedome, though thou still keepst thine:
And am resolv'd constant to prove,
Should her neglect transend my love.
Strange charmes they are that make me burne,
Without the hope of a returne!
To see her, and not be in love,
A wonder like her selfe might prove:
Her charmes by vertue and by art,
Doth each of them deserve a hart.
For this my sorrowes are not small,
I have but one to pay them all.
A wonder like her selfe might prove:
Her charmes by vertue and by art,
Doth each of them deserve a hart.
For this my sorrowes are not small,
I have but one to pay them all.
Her eyes the fiercest hart out brave,
At once delight us and enslave;
Thou couldst not sure once look on them,
But act what now thou dost condemne.
Who then can that assault abide,
When fate doth strike on beauties side?
At once delight us and enslave;
Thou couldst not sure once look on them,
But act what now thou dost condemne.
Who then can that assault abide,
When fate doth strike on beauties side?
