Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/187

 Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies, My love should shine on you like to the Sun, And look upon you with ten thousand eyes, Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done. Wheresoe'er I am,—below, or else above you— Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

MICHAEL DRAYTON

1563-1631

116. To His Coy Love

I pray thee, leave, love me no more, Call home the heart you gave me! I but in vain that saint adore That can but will not save me. These poor half-kisses kill me quite— Was ever man thus servèd? Amidst an ocean of delight For pleasure to be starvèd?

Show me no more those snowy breasts With azure riverets branchèd, Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts, Yet is my thirst not stanchèd; O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell! By me thou art prevented: 'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell, But thus in Heaven tormented.

Clip me no more in those dear arms, Nor thy life's comfort call me, O these are but too powerful charms, And do but more enthral me!