Classic Poem

Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes,
From Cavy depths, give hearing to my groanes,
Great Pluto , let thy sad abiding move
With Hellish fires, to flame for fires of love;
Let Charon passe my woes unto thine eares:
His boate if empty they shall load it well,
With tortures great, as are the paines of Hell,
And waightier then the Earth this body beares.

Take downe my spirit, cloyd with griefe and paine,
Conjure the darkest Pits, to let me gaine
Some corner for a rest; if not, let mee
O Pluto wander, and complaine to thee:
No corsive can make wounds have torture more,
Nor this disfavor vex a forelorne soule;
(If all thy furys were put in a role)
Then Love gives me; ah bitter eating sore.

Call thy great Counsell, and afflicted Sp'rits,
Examine well their woes, with all their nights,
And you shall find none there that are not mine,
Nay, my least, with their greatest joyntly twine.
Let saddest Echo from her hollow Cave,
Answere the horrid plaints my sorrow gives,
Which in like mournefull, and vast caverne lives;
Then judge the murdering passions which I have.

My Judge is deafe, then, O thy justice prove,
Mend thou the fault of proud forgetfull love,
Release me from thy Court, and send me out
Unto thy Brother Jove , whose love and doubt
Hath oft transform'd him from his heavenly kind:
So now from thee transforme my killing care
To blessing, and from Hell into the Ayre,
Darke griefe should not a loving fancy bind.