Tixall Poetry/To Dorinda
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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 amissPardon, and seale that pardon with a kisse.Stay, methinks the melting saintKindly echoes my complaint;Looke, I fancy I descryPitty dropping from her eye;Harke, she saies, Philander live,All thy errours Ile forgive.