When I behold that beauties wonderment, And rare perfection of each goodly part, Of Natures skill the onely complement, I honor and admire the Makers art. But when I feele the bitter balefull smart Which her fayre eyes unwares doe worke in mee, That death out of theyr shiny beames doe dart, I thinke that I a new Pandora see; Whom all the gods in councell did agree, Into this sinfull world from heaven to send, That she to wicked men a scourge should bee, For all their faults with which they did offend. But since ye are my scourge, I will intreat That for my faults ye will me gently beat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 25 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 20 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH EPITAPH ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SUSAN, COUNTESS OF MONTGOMERY by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM OF FINTRY, REQUESTING A FAVOR by ROBERT BURNS |