Classic Poem

I.

Againe,
Thou witty Cruell Wanton now againe,
Through ev'ry Veine,
Hurle all your lightning, and strike ev'ry Dart,
Againe,
Before I feele this pleasing, pleasing paine,
I have no Heart,
Nor can I live but sweetly murder'd with
So deare, so deare a smart.

II.

Then slye,
And kindle all your Torches at her Eye,
To make me Dye
Her Martyr, and put on my Roabe of Flame:
So I
Advanced on my blazing Wings on high,
In Death became
Inthroan'd a Starre, and Ornament unto
Her glorious glorious name.