Classic Poem

XVI.
Unlesse there were consent twixt hell and heaven
That grace and wickednes should be combind,
I cannot make thee and thy beauties even;
Thy face is heaven, and torture in thy minde:
For more then worldly blisse is in thy eie,
And hellish torture in thy minde doth lie.

A thousand Cherubins flie in her lookes,
And hearts in legions melt upon their view:
But gorgeous covers wall up filthie bookes;
Be it sinne to saie, that so your eyes do you:
But sure your mind adheres not with your eies,
For what they promise, that your heart denies.

But O, least I religion should misuse,
Inspire me thou, that ought'st thy selfe to know,
Since skillesse readers reading do abuse,
What inward meaning outward sence doth show:
For by thy eies and heart, chose and contem'd,
I waver, whether saved or condemn'd.