Classic Poem

Taken with Love of Adriana His misfortune thus He bewailes

O cruell Nimph fayre Adriana, how
Dos't stil Thy Ears stop to my praiers and vowe?
Thou art soe many wayes by Venus grac't
Soe many Cupids Mustring in Thee plac't
As that noe Lillies can more white disclose
Nor fresher Tincture bears the blushing Rose
Than thy cheekes wear: it may be Thou art Coye
For this, Least too much bewty should destroy
Soe wear'st a Vale; the Sun too takes delight
To mask in Clowds some times, t'appeer more bright
When those blow over: Lay distrust aside
Let noe such Twylight thy fayr Graces hide
From me thy Servant, nor suspitions guive
Thee cause to doubt: (that soe again I live)
For by this kind unkindnes thou dost more
Inflame my hart and Venus wounds prove sore:
Whilst Hopes are Languishing as Times wear out
And yet delayes Thou findst to bring't about
In Labour and in Travaile what dost less
Than make me to act over Hercules
Or Ixion-like dost make me Torture feele
In being turned on a restless wheele
Or being condemnd to Syciphusses Ston
That Rolled is without sessation
Or Tantalusses fate, (whose thirsts though great
In waters languish) and Hee's starvd 'midst meat
Thus Rackt's my soule Graunt mercy now for lawe
That I noe more in sinn my water drawe
Let Him by Travailes made the world his owne
Be soe far blest as t'lodg with in Thy Zone
And moor his vessel ere it be too late
At Those Thy Ilands calld the Fortunate
Let Hymen cause his sweeter Torch to shine
And quench that deadly flame (Cupid) of Thine.