HER UNBELIEF.
99
"Notes of my love, thrive here," said I, "and grow;
"And with ye let my love do so."
"And with ye let my love do so."
Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive!
This blasted tree predestines it;
Go, tie the dismal knot (why shouldst thou live?)
And, by the lines thou there hast writ,
Deform'dly hanging, the sad picture be
To that unlucky history.
This blasted tree predestines it;
Go, tie the dismal knot (why shouldst thou live?)
And, by the lines thou there hast writ,
Deform'dly hanging, the sad picture be
To that unlucky history.
HER UNBELIEF.
'T is a strange kind of ignorance this in you!
That you your victories should not spy,
Victories gotten by your eye!
That your bright beams, as those of comets do,
Should kill, but not know how, nor who!
That you your victories should not spy,
Victories gotten by your eye!
That your bright beams, as those of comets do,
Should kill, but not know how, nor who!
That truly you my idol might appear,
Whilst all the people smell and see
The odorous flames. I offer thee,
Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear,
Thy constant, zealous worshiper.
Whilst all the people smell and see
The odorous flames. I offer thee,
Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear,
Thy constant, zealous worshiper.
They see't too well who at my fires repine;
Nay, th' unconcern'd themselves do prove
Quick-eyeḍ enough to spy my love;
Nay, th' unconcern'd themselves do prove
Quick-eyeḍ enough to spy my love;
