No -- I'll endure ten thousand deaths, Ere any farther I'll comply; Oh! Sir, no man on earth that breathes Had ever yet his hand so high! Oh! take your sword, and pierce my heart, Undaunted see me meet the wound, Oh! will you act a Tarquin's part? A second Lucrece you have found. Thus to the pressing Corydon, Poor Florimel, unhappy maid! Fearing by love to be undone, In broken dying accents said. Delia, who held the conscious door, Inspired by truth and brandy, smiled, Knowing that, sixteen months before, Our Lucrece had her second child. And, hark ye! madam, cried the bawd, None of your flights, your high rope dodging; Be civil here, or march abroad; Oblige the squire, or quit the lodging. Oh! have I -- Florimel went on -- Have I then lost my Delia's aid? Where shall forsaken virtue run, If by her friend she is betrayed? Oh! curse on empty friendship's name! Lord, what is all our future view! Then, dear destroyer of my fame, Let my last succour be to you! From Delia's rage, and fortune's frown, A wretched love-sick maid deliver! Oh! tip me but another crown, Dear sir, and make me yours for ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOLOMON TO SHEBA by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS BISHOP BLOUGRAM'S APOLOGY by ROBERT BROWNING THE MAD MAID'S SONG by ROBERT HERRICK OPPORTUNITY by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL AVE ATQUE VALE; IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON |