Classic Poem

A New-Found match is made of late;
Blind Cupid needs will change his wife;
New-fangled Love doth Psyche hate,
With whom so long he led his life.
Dissembling, she
The bride must be,
To please his wanton eye:
Psyche laments
That love repents
His choice without cause why.

Cytheron sounds with music strange,
Unknown unto the Virgins nine:
From flat to sharp the tune doth range,
Too base, because it is too fine.
See how the bride,
Puffed up with pride,
Can mince it passing well:
She trips on toe,
Full fair to show;
Within doth poison dwell.

Now wanton Love at last is sped;
Dissembling is his only joy:
Bare Truth from Venus' court is fled,
Dissembling pleasures hides annoy.
It were in vain
To talk of paiu;
The wedding yet doth last;
But pain is near,
And will appear
With a dissembling cast.

Despair and Hope are joined in one,
And pain with pleasure linked sure;
Not one of these can come alone,
No certain hope, no pleasure pure.
Thus, sour and sweet
In love do meet;
Dissembling likes it so;
Of sweet small store,
Of sour the more,
Love is a pleasant woe.