Thou purblind boy, since thou hast been so slack To wound her heart, whose eyes have wounded me, And suffer'd her to glory in my wrack, Thus to my aid I lastly conjure thee: By hellish Styx, by which the Thund'rer swears, By thy fair mother's unavoided power, By Hecate's names, by Proserpine's sad tears When she was rapt to the infernal bower, By thine own loved Psyche, by the fires Spent on thine alters flaming up to heav'n, By all true lovers' sighs, vows, and desires, By all the wounds that ever thou hast giv'n: I conjure thee by all that I have nam'd To make her love, or, Cupid, be thou damn'd. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE by CARL SANDBURG THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17. A LOVER'S PLEA by THOMAS CAMPION A PROPER NEW BALLAD [ENTITLED THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL] by RICHARD CORBET A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE BALLADE OF BLUE CHINA by ANDREW LANG SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 30 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |