A fairer hand than thine shall cure
That heart which thy false oaths did wound;
And to my soul a soul more pure
Than thine shall by Love’s hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crowned.
Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain
To Love, as I did once to thee:
When all thy tears shall be as vain
As mine were then: for thou shalt be
Damned for thy false Apostacy.
AN HYMENEAL DIALOGUE
Groom.—Tell me, my Love, since Hymen tied
The holy knot, hast thou not felt
A new-infused spirit slide
Into thy breast, whilst mine did melt?
Bride.—First tell me, Sweet, whose words were those?
For though your voice the air did break,
Yet did my soul the sense compose,
And through your lips my heart did speak.
Groom.—Then I perceive, when from the flame
Of love my scorched soul did retire,
Your frozen heart in that place came,
And sweetly melted in that fire.
Bride.—’Tis true, for when that mutual change
Of souls was made, with equal gain,
I straight might feel diffused a strange
But gentle heat through every vein.
Bride.—Thy bosom then I’ll make my nest,
Since there my willing soul doth perch.
Groom.—And for my heart, in thy chaste breast,
I’ll make an everlasting search.
O blest disunion, that doth so
Our bodies from our souls divide;
As two to one, and one four grow,
Each by contraction multiplied.