I. <br />Divine Destroyer, pitty me no more, <br /> Or else more pitty me; <br />Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more, <br /> Or else more cruelty! <br /> For left thus as I am, <br /> My heart is ice and flame; <br /> And languishing thus, I <br /> Can neither live nor dye! <br /> <br /> II. <br />Your glories are eclipst, and hidden in the grave <br /> Of this indifferency; <br />And, Caelia, you can neither altars have, <br /> Nor I, a Diety: <br /> They are aspects divine, <br /> That still or smile, or shine, <br /> Or, like th' offended sky, <br /> Frowne death immediately.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-la-bourbon-done-moy-plus-de-pitie-ou-plus-de-c/
