Classic Poem

An evill spirit your beautie haunts Me still,
Where with (alas) I have beene long possest,
Which ceaseth not to tempt Me to each Ill,
Nor gives Me once, but one poore minutes rest:
In Me it speakes, whether I Sleepe or Wake,
And when by Meanes, to drive it out I try,
With greater Torments, then it Me doth take,
And tortures Me in most extremity;
Before my Face, it layes downe my Despaires,
And hastes Me on unto a sudden Death;
Now tempting Me, to drowne my Selfe in teares,
And then in sighing, to give up my breath;
Thus am I still provok'd, to every Evill,
By this good wicked Spirit, sweet Angell Devill.