Classic Poem

As when our Rage does too much Passion vent,
Our Passion makes our Vengeance impotent;
So oft in Love, as Rage, Excess of Joy,
And Raptures strain'd too high our Bliss destroy.
'Twas not your Want of Charms, nor mine of Love,
Which made our Wishes ineffectual prove;
Our mutual Eagerness our Joys delay'd,
And Love its Wish by its Desire betray'd.
Your too much Beauty, my too much Desire,
Your too much Warmth in Love, my too much Fire,
Made both our Flames as more, more soon expire.
The Fault was not, tho' the Misfortune, mine;
I was too eager, and Thou too Divine!
Thy Beauty which invited first my Love,
Did first its fatal Disappointment prove.
You were too good, and I too rashly kind,
And both were cross'd for being of a Mind.
Your Love's Impatience caus'd my Love's Delay;
Your Grant, my Pow'r to take it, took away.
Your Willingness to yield, was more my Shame,
My Love was baffled while it overcame.
Consenting, and unanimous in Love,
The less we could each other's Kindness prove:
So, like two Wrestlers, 'twas our equal Strength
Kept us from measuring each other's Length.
Thus 'twas our mutual Love, which did prevent
Our Satisfaction by too much Content.
Thou wert too lovely , to be more belov'd ,
And I too blest , to have my Bliss improv'd .