169. Wherein Love's Agony Devours Apace, Yet He Cannot Reproach Her -
WHEREIN LOVE'S AGONY DEVOURS APACE, YET HE CANNOT REPROACH HER
The vulture flames that on my heart's heart feed
Are pitiless; with stony eyes and narrow
They search, and so consume me to the marrow,
So waste my veins, it is a ghost they bleed.
Death, with his barbarous arm poised for the deed,
As heaven thunders or the lions harrow,
Pursues me like a hawk that hunts the sparrow,
While I yield, knowing none will hear or heed.
And yet, were Love and Pity friends, they might
A double rampart for deliverance rear
Between my frantic soul and Death's despite:
Not so: such passions never may appear
When my dear foe and mistress sweep in sight:
The fault is in my fortune, not in her.
The vulture flames that on my heart's heart feed
Are pitiless; with stony eyes and narrow
They search, and so consume me to the marrow,
So waste my veins, it is a ghost they bleed.
Death, with his barbarous arm poised for the deed,
As heaven thunders or the lions harrow,
Pursues me like a hawk that hunts the sparrow,
While I yield, knowing none will hear or heed.
And yet, were Love and Pity friends, they might
A double rampart for deliverance rear
Between my frantic soul and Death's despite:
Not so: such passions never may appear
When my dear foe and mistress sweep in sight:
The fault is in my fortune, not in her.
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