Classic Poem

How long, mine eyes, how long!
Drunken with draughts of beauty's wine
Ye quaff the cup of love divine
And still your feast prolong.

Come, fly while yet you may,
And to the queen of soft desire,
Escaped the storm of passion's fire,
A chaste libation pay.

But if she will not hear
And madness still my bosom burn,
May bitter tears your radiance turn
To icy coldness drear.

From you my troubles came
And you the price must justly owe,
Who oft my tender heart did throw
Into Love's furnace flame.