GIVING thee once a visit of respect, Because I some affairs could not neglect, Which much concern'd me, brooking no delay, I only kist thine hand, and went away: How aptly, Cynthia, didst thou then inquire, Whether I came to thee but to fetch fire: It was too true, for yet I never came To visit thee, but I did fetch a flame, Religious fire, which kindled by thine eyes, Still made my heart thy beauty's sacrifice; But though I, like Prometheus, never stole Celestial fire to give a living soul To any earthen statue, stone, yet he More mercy finds from Jove, than I from thee; Though he to Caucasus be bound for ever, A ravenous vulture tiring on his liver, His pain is not augmented, but the same. But mine, like Vesta's never-dying flame, Although to burn my heart it never cease, Like oil of gold yet it doth still increase, An everlasting lamp, for fires that come From heaven still do burn, but not consume. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN UTRUMQUE PARATUS by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE HOUSE-WARMING; A LEGEND OF BLEEDING-HEART YARD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN; TO VICTOR HUGO by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE A CONTRAST, BETWEEN TWO EMINENT DIVINES by JOHN BYROM DREAMERS OF DREAMS by WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH TO THE SCHOONER CASCO, DEAR TO R.L.S. by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING |