The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/The Monopoly

by Abraham Cowley

THE MONOPOLY.

What mines of sulphur in my breast do lie,
That feed th' eternal burnings of my heart!
Not Ætna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcan's smoky art:
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupid's forge is set-up here.

Here all those arrows' mortal heads are made,
That fly so thick unseen through yielding air;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade,
Are Jealousy, Fear, Sadness, and Despair.
Ah, cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curst monopoly?

I have the trouble, not the gains, of it:—
Give me but the disposal of one dart,
And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in my heart:
So sweet's revenge to me, that I,
Upon my foe would gladly die.

Deep into her bosom would I strike the dart,
Deeper than woman e're was struck by thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from th' heart,
They flutter still about, inconstantly:
Curse on thy goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but woman-kind!

Vain God! who woman dost thyself adore!
Their wounded hearts do still retain the powers
To travel and to wander, as before:
Thy broken arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So' unjustly are distributed,
They take the feathers, we the head.