Classic Poem

See where she flies enrag'd from me,
View her when she intends despite:
The winde is not more swift then shee,
Her furie mov'd such terror makes
As, to a fearfull guiltie sprite,
The voice of heav'ns huge thunder cracks.
But, when her appeased minde yeelds to delight,
All her thoughts are made of joyes,
Millions of delights inventing:
Other pleasures are but toies
To her beauties sweete contenting.

My fortune hangs upon her brow,
For, as she smiles or frownes on mee,
So must my blowne affections bow;
And her proude thoughts too well do find
With what unequall tyrannie
Her beauties doe command my mind.
Though, when her sad planet raignes, froward she bee,
She alone can pleasure move,
And displeasing sorrow banish:
May I but still hold her love,
Let all other comforts vanish.