Love in fantastic triumph sate Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,
For whom fresh pains he did create And strange tyrannic power he show’d:
From thy bright eyes he took his fires, Which round about in sport he hurl’d;
But ’twas from mine he took desires Enough t’ undo the amorous world.
From me he took his sighs and tears, From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears, And every killing dart from thee.
Thus thou and I the god have arm’d And set him up a deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm’d, Whilst thine the victor is, and free!
