After many scorns like these, Which the prouder beauties please, She content was to restore Eyes and limbs, to hurt me more, And would on conditions, be Reconciled to love, and me: First, that I must kneeling yield Both the bow, and shaft I held Unto her; which Love might take At her hand, with oath, to make Me, the scope of his next draught Aimed, with that self-same shaft. He no sooner heard the law, But the arrow home did draw And (to gain her by his art) Left it sticking in my heart: Which when she beheld to bleed, She repented of the deed, And would fain have changed the fate, But the pity comes too late. Loser-like, now, all my wreak Is, that I have leave to speak, And in either prose, or song, To revenge me with my tongue, Which how dexterously I do Hear and make example too. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMPANIONS; A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY AN INVITATION by MRS. RALPH BLACK STANZAS by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TWO QUESTIONS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE ABER STATIONS: STATIO PRIMA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN MATER DOLOROSA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FOURTH SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) SPRING FANTASIES: 2. THE SPRING RETURNS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |