1. WHat Mines of Sulphur in my breast do lye, That feed th' eternall burnings of my heart? Not AEtna 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. 2. Here all those Arrowes' mortall Heads are made, That fly so thick unseen through yeelding aire; The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade Are Jealousie, Fear, Sadnesse, and Despair. Ah cruel God! and why to mee Gave you this curst Monopoly! 3. I have the trouble, not the gains of it; Give me but the disposall of one Dart; And then (I'le 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 dye. 4. Deep into 'her bosome would I strike the dart, Deeper then Woman ere was struck by Thee; Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so farre from th' Heart, They flutter still about, inconstantly. Curse on thy Goodnesse, whom we find Civill to none but Womankind! 5. Vain God! who women dost thy selfe adore! Their wounded Hearts do still retain the powers To travail, and to wander as before; Thy broken Arrows 'twixt that Sex and ours So 'unjustly are distributed; They take their Feathers, we the Head. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO COLE, THE PAINTER, DEPARTING FOR EUROPE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO THE REPUBLIC by JAMES GALVIN THE UNSEEN WORLD by CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS CAN YOU HEAR IT? by THERESA DRULEY BLACK ADDRESS TO HIS NATIVE VALE by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD MY DWELLING by FRANCES HALLEY BROCKETT THE FAIRY FORT by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN REMARKS ON DR. AKENSIDE'S AND MR. WHITEHEAD'S VERSES by JOHN BYROM |