Tixall Poetry/The Power of Beauty
LXXI.
The Power of Beauty.
Keepe on your vaile, and hide each eye,For with beholding them I die.Your fatal beauty, Gorgon-like,Me with astonishment doth strike;Those piercing eyes, when them I see,Are worse than basalisks to me.
Hide from my sight those hills of snow,Such tempting vallies doe not shew,Those azure paths lead to dispaire,O tempt me not, forbeare, forbeare:For whilst I thus in torments dwell,The sight of heaven is worse than hell.
Your dainty voice, and warbling breath,Sound like a trumpet past for death; Your dangling tresses are like chaines,Tying me to eternall paines;O, if an angell torture soe,My life must pass in endlesse woe!