Classic Poem

Love, with what strange tyrannick lawes must they
Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!
How far all justice thy commands decline,
Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoyne!
Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain
A double torture of despaire and pain?
Is't not enough vainly to hope and wooe,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some Joy Ixion-like to fold
The empty aire, or feed on hopes as cold;
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou may'st be starv'd to death as well as I.
For how can thy pale sickly flame burne cleare
When death and cold despaire inhabit neere?
Rule in my brest alone, or thence retire;
Dissolve this frost or let that quench thy fire;
Or let me not desire, or else possesse;
Neither, or both are equall happinesse.