Tyrant, farewell! this heart, the prize
And triumph of thy scornful eyes,
I sacrifice to heaven, and give
To quit my sins, that durst believe
A woman's easy faith, and place
True joys in a changing face.
Yet ere I go: by all those tears
And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes and fears;
By thy own glories, and that hour
Which first enslav'd me to thy power;
I beg, fair one, by this last breath,
This tribute from thee after death.
If, when I'm gone, you chance to see
That cold bed where I lodgèd be,
Let not your hate in death appear,
But bless my ashes with a tear:
This influx from that quick'ning eye,
By secret pow'r, which none can spy,
The cold dust shall inform, and make
Those flames, though dead, new life partake
Whose warmth, help'd by your tears, shall bring
O'er all the tomb a sudden spring
Of crimson flowers, whose drooping heads
Shall curtain o'er their mournful beds:
And on each leaf, by Heaven's command,
These emblems to the life shall stand
Two hearts, the first a shaft withstood;
The second, shot and wash'd in blood;
And on this heart a dew shall stay,
Which no heat can court away;
But fix'd for ever, witness bears
That hearty sorrow feeds on tears.
Thus Heaven can make it known, and true
That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.
TO AMORET.
The Sigh.
Nimble sigh, on thy warm wings,
Take this message and depart;
Tell Amoret, that smiles and sings,
At what thy airy voyage brings,
That thou cam'st lately from my heart.
Tell my lovely foe that I
Have no more such spies to send,
But one or two that I intend,
Some few minutes ere I die,
To her white bosom to commend.
Then whisper by that holy spring,
Where for her sake I would have died,
Whilst those water-nymphs did bring
Flowers to cure what she had tried;
And of my faith and love did sing.
That if my Amoret, if she
In after-times would have it read,
How her beauty murder'd me,
With all my heart I will agree,
If she'll but love me, being dead.