Tixall Poetry.
151
XXXIV.
To Dorinda.
Forgive me, Jove,
Or, if ther be a kinder God above,
Forgive a rebell to the power of love.
Heare me, kind Cupid, and accept my vow,
Mine, who devoutly at thy alter bow.
O heare me now, Dorinda, heare,
And what I have done amiss
Pardon, and seale that pardon with a kisse.
Stay, methinks the melting saint
Kindly echoes my complaint;
Looke, I fancy I descry
Pitty dropping from her eye;
Harke, she saies, Philander live,
All thy errours Ile forgive.
Or, if ther be a kinder God above,
Forgive a rebell to the power of love.
Heare me, kind Cupid, and accept my vow,
Mine, who devoutly at thy alter bow.
O heare me now, Dorinda, heare,
And what I have done amiss
Pardon, and seale that pardon with a kisse.
Stay, methinks the melting saint
Kindly echoes my complaint;
Looke, I fancy I descry
Pitty dropping from her eye;
Harke, she saies, Philander live,
All thy errours Ile forgive.
