Classic Poem

From the third heaven I downe am come,
Loves powerfull Queene, to visit Rome;
To visit you, deare Latian plaines,
Glad hills, lovd walls, where soft peace raigns;
Where those Heroick Soules that are
So lovd in peace, so feard in war,
Had both a cradle and an urne.
Once more I back to earth returne,
Quitting the highest spheare for you,
And Paphos and Cythera too.
Yet would I not be idle here,
But as my selfe, Loves Queene, appeare.
I come to wake the sleeping fire
In coldest breasts, or new inspire,
And to revenge the pride of those
That to Loves bow and torch are foes.
To these both peace and war I give,
In amorous discords taught to live.
Then stubborn soules resolve to fly,
Or feele the power that you deny,
Beauty and Love here onely sway;
And if some heart refuse t'obey,
That never felt Loves dart and fire,
Let him repent, or else retire.
Fly far from hence, faire Venus, fly,
We thy lascivious heat defie;
By these thy pleasures are neglected,
Not unto Love but Mars subjected.
No, no, you wary soules, remoove
You that are free or slaves to Love.
Thy sweets do either pine or cloy,
Thou maist give hope, but never joy.
With mortall wounds thou dost invade
The heart to thy soft snares betraid,
For promisd pleasure, griefe dost pay,
Lesse giving then thou take'st away.
I am Adonis and well know
The sweetnes beauty doth bestow,
I by experience long did prove
What joyes, what sorrows flow from love,
And dare confirme you in beleefe
Love gives much pleasure, little griefe.
I the great Goddesse am of war,
Nor will permit these joyes that are
Fit onely with their subtle arts
To melt weak soules and soften hearts.
Love unto Mars must give the field,
And sence must unto reason yield.
Beauty shall thy weak force subdue;
And over Mars I'le triumph too.
Him will I vanquish without armes;
A looke, a haire, a glance, our charmes.
Against my force,
Against my dart,
In vaine strives reason,
In vaine art.
Great heavens! and can I thus be charmd
By a nak'd boy, a girle unarm'd?
Yes, thou hast tried, proud God of Warr,
How powerfull Loves sharpe Arrowes are;
Thou knowst how soone a glance ensnares,
Shot from bright eyes, the dangers, cares;
None with this naked child contend,
Swords not assist, nor shields defend.
I, Empresse of the vast world, Rome,
That lands and nations have orecome
With fire and war, will soone subdue,
As those, this little Archer too.
For where Love bowes to vertues yoke,
His torch is quench't, his arrowes broke.
I, warlike Rome, thy strength will arme
With vertues ever-potent charme,
And Love shall be, although he have
O're others victory, thy slave.
Speak Mars and, bold Alcides, say
How valour did my lawes obey,
Unarm'd, a child and naked, Love
Did victor ore the victors prove.
With what was then I now dispence,
Vertue unties what's bound by sence;
Nor canst thou then triumphant be
O're such as reason since did free.
I rather in a haire would lye
Fetterd, or burning in an eye,
Then free and frozen: death may move
More pleasure then t'enjoy not love.
You that dare boast your liberty
Shall by this shaft revenged be.
Rebellious soules, you now shall prove
What power in Beauty, what in Love.
And he that Love contemns when kind
Shall to his rigour be confind.
O cruell enemy!
Sweet boy!
Wounds mortall!
That give life and joy.
How soone doth Love make all submitt,
How quickly wound, how surely hit.
When thou art farthest, he o'retakes thee,
When safest, he his captive makes thee.
Withall his force or treacherie
Love never yet could vanquish me;
For where strong vertues charmes defend,
His shafts, unheaded, not offend.
I thought by valour he might be
Subdu'de, but he hath wounded me:
Then, since Loves power doth all reduce,
Let us with armes here make a Truce.
Love, since thou dost command, we yield,
Behold my sword, behold my shield;
These never vanquisht weapons now
Yield to thy quiver and thy bow.
See here Loves wonders, soules most wild:
Love turnd a Warriour, Mars a Child.
He that nere lovd now let him turne,
He that was frozen let him burne;
Mars who was onely ice before,
Feels now this active heat the more.
He that did never bow to Love
Shall now his easy fetters prove,
And who most stubborn was before
Shall languish in this fire the more.
He that did never know this dart,
Ere long shall feele its welcome smart;
And he that sprightly was before,
Sad and afflicted be the more.
He that this arrow never felt,
Ere long shall with the kind flame melt.
As colder, so I hotter grow;
The flame more violent, as more slow.
Those that love late do soone repent;
My shafts who scorne, them soone resent.
I whom these active flames inspire
Will Phænix-like live in this fire,
Nor will resist this loving heat,
Which is most welcome when most great.
Loves arrows wound retreating hearts,
He deepest shoots the longest darts;
And he that strives to quit these chaines,
Intangled in them more remaines.
Love, he that hath not felt thy smart

Wants either life, or eyes, or heart.
Unkinder beauties, who nere yet
Were warm'd by Loves so gentle heat,
Know that a barbarous cruelty
With such a forme doth ill agree.
This season wherein he delights
Your stubborn soules to Love invites;
For hearts so cruelly severe
Like snakes i'th'midst of flowers appeare;
Take heed lest if you slip this how're,
Your beauty lose its choicest flow're;
If any here would be releast,
She must resigne or face or breast.
The unkind must devested be
Of beauty or of cruelty,
And those harsh soules that proudest are
Become lesse cruell or lesse faire.
The flower of beauty age invades,
It quickly bloomes, and quickly fades.
Time hasts his fleeting steps away
To make your pride of youth his prey.
Henceforth you must devested be
Of beauty or of Cruelty.
Love, he that doth not feele thy smart
Wants either life, or eies, or heart.