I I GO: but never to return: With such a killing flame I burn, Not all th' enraged waves that beat My ship's calk't ribs, can quench that heat: Nor thy disdains, which colder are Than climates of the northern star, Can freeze the blood, warm'd by thine eye: But Sweet, I must thy martyr die. II Oh! canst thou know, that losing thee, The universe is dead to me, And I to it, yet not become So kind, as to revoke my doom? Gentle Heart, do; if I remove, How can I hope t' achieve thy love? If not, I shall 't a blessing call, That she, who wounds may see my fall. III Or say thou lov'st, and bid me go Where never sun his face did show: Or to, what's worse, want of thy light, Which dissipates the shades of night; To dangers, Death, Hell dares not own, Scarcely to apprehension known, Arm'd with thy will (despite of fear) I'll seek them, as if thou wer't there. IV But, if thou wilt I die, and that, By, worse than thousand deaths, thy hate; When I am dead, if thou but pay My tomb a tear, and sighing say, Thou do'st my timeless fall deplore, Wishing th' had'st known my truth before; My dearest Dear, thou mak'st me then, Or sleep in peace, or live again. |