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Richard Lovelace - A La Bourbon. Done Moy Plus De Pitie Ou Plus De Creaulte, Car Sans Ci Ie Ne Puis Pas Viure, Ne Morir
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I.
Divine Destroyer, pitty me no more,
     Or else more pitty me;
Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more,
     Or else more cruelty!
       For left thus as I am,
       My heart is ice and flame;
     And languishing thus, I
     Can neither live nor dye!

                    II.
Your glories are eclipst, and hidden in the grave
     Of this indifferency;
And, Caelia, you can neither altars have,
     Nor I, a Diety:
       They are aspects divine,
       That still or smile, or shine,
     Or, like th` offended sky,
     Frowne death immediately.
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