Читать книгу Minor Poems of Michael Drayton - Drayton Michael - Страница 24

Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror,

Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring mee;

And but appoint me for her Tormentor,

Then for a Monarch will I honour thee.

My hart shall be the prison for my fayre;

Ile fetter her in chaines of purest loue,

My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre:

This punishment the pittilesse may moue.

With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes

She'st quench her thirst as duly as they fall:

Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise,

My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all.

Ile binde her then with my torne-tressed haire,

And racke her with a thousand holy wishes;

Then, on a place prepared for her there,

Ile execute her with a thousand kisses.

Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee;

Thus Ile plague her which hath so plagued mee.