My Love is Past
Ye captive souls of blindfold Cyprian's boat,
Mark with advice in what estate ye stand:
Your boatman never whistles merry note,
And Folly keeping stern, still puts from land,
And makes a sport to toss you to and fro
Twixt sighing winds and surging waves of woe.
On Beauty's rock she runs you at her will,
And holds you in suspense twixt hope and fear,
Where dying oft, yet are you living still,
But such a life as death much better were.
Be therefore circumspect, and follow me,
When chance or change of manners sets you free.
Beware how you return to seas again.
Hang up your votive tables in the choir
Of Cupid's church, in witness of the pain
You suffer now by forced fond desire.
Then hang your throughwet garments on the wall,
And sing with me that love is mixed with gall.
Mark with advice in what estate ye stand:
Your boatman never whistles merry note,
And Folly keeping stern, still puts from land,
And makes a sport to toss you to and fro
Twixt sighing winds and surging waves of woe.
On Beauty's rock she runs you at her will,
And holds you in suspense twixt hope and fear,
Where dying oft, yet are you living still,
But such a life as death much better were.
Be therefore circumspect, and follow me,
When chance or change of manners sets you free.
Beware how you return to seas again.
Hang up your votive tables in the choir
Of Cupid's church, in witness of the pain
You suffer now by forced fond desire.
Then hang your throughwet garments on the wall,
And sing with me that love is mixed with gall.
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