Classic Poem

III

Go, burning sighs, unto the frozen heart.
Go break the ice which pity's painful dart
Might never pierce; and if mortal prayer
In heaven may be heard, at last I desire
That death or mercy be end of my smart.
Take with thee pain whereof I have my part
And eke the flame from which I cannot start,
And leave me then in rest, I you require.
Go, burning sighs.
I must go work, I see, by craft and art
For truth and faith in her is laid apart.
Alas, I cannot therefore assail her
With pitiful plaint and scalding fire
That out of my breast doth strainably start.
Go, burning sighs.