Classic Poem

XI

Then in my daring crest I'l place
  This plume of light
  T' amaze the sight
O' th' feircest Sons of Mars,
That rage in bloudy warres,
And make them fly my conquering face.

XII

Thus in her favour I am blest,
  And, if by these
  Few of her raies
I am exalted so;
What will my passions do
When I have purchas'd all the rest?

XIII

They must continue in the same
  Vigour, and force,
  Better, nor worse:
I love so well before,
I canot love her more,
Nor can I mitigate my flame.

XIV

In Love then persevere I will
  Till my hairs grow
  As white as snow;
And, when in my warme veins
Nought but trembling cold remains,
My youthfull love shall flourish still.