Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/508

 Dear, from thine arms then let me fly, That my fantastic mind may prove The torments it deserves to try, That tears my fix'd heart from my love.

When, wearied with a world of woe, To thy safe bosom I retire, Where love, and peace, and truth does flow, May I contented there expire!

Lest, once more wandering from that heaven, I fall on some base heart unblest; Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven— And lose my everlasting rest.

414. Love and Life

All my past life is mine no more; The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o'er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone.

The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine? The present moment's all my lot; And that, as fast as it is got, Phillis, is only thine.

Then talk not of inconstancy. False hearts, and broken vows; If I by miracle can be This live-long minute true to thee, 'Tis all that Heaven allows.