The Usurpation

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The Usurpation
by Abraham Cowley

Thou hadst to my soul no title or pretence;
     I was mine own, and free,
     Till I had giv'n my self to thee;
But thou hast kept me slave and prisoner since.
     Well, since so insolent thou'rt grown,
Fond tyrant! I'll depose thee from thy throne;
Such outrages must not admitted be
     In an elective monarchy.

Part of my heart by gift did to thee fall;
     My country, kindred, and my best
     Acquaintance, were to share the rest;
But thou, their covetous neighbour, drav'est out all:
     Nay more; thou mak'st me worship thee,
And would'st the rule of my religion be;
Did ever tyrant claim such power as you,
     To be both emperour, and pope too?

The publick miseries, and my private fate
     Deserve some tears: but greedy thou
     (Insatiate maid!) wilt not allow
That I one drop from thee should alienate.
     Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part,
Though the sole cause of most of them thou art,
Counting my tears thy tribute and thy due,
     Since first mine eyes I gave to you.

Thou all my joys and all my hopes dost claim,
     Thou ragest like a fire in me,
     Converting all things into thee;
Nought can resist, or not encrease the flame.
     Nay every grief and every fear,
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear.
Thy presence, like the crowned basilisk's breath,
     All other serpents puts to death.

As men in hell are from diseases free,
     So from all other ills am I;
     Free from their known formality:
But all pains eminently lye in thee:
     Alas, alas! I hope in vain
My conquer'd soul from out thine hands to gain.
Since all the natives there thou 'ast overthrown,
     And planted garrisons of thine own.