Like an Oblation set before a Shrine, <br />Fair One! I offer up this heart of mine. <br />Whether the Saint accept my Gift or no, <br />Ile neither fear nor doubt before I know. <br />For he whose faint distrust prevents reply, <br />Doth his own suits denial prophecy. <br />Your will the sentence is; Who free as Fate <br />Can bid my love proceed, or else retreat. <br />And from short views that verdict is decreed <br />Which seldom doth one audience exceed. <br />Love asks no dull probation, but like light <br />Conveyes his nimble influence at first sight. <br />I need not therefore importune or press; <br />This were t'extort unwilling happiness: <br />And much against affection might I sin: <br />To tire and weary what I seek to win. <br />Towns which by lingring siege enforced be <br />Oft make both sides repent the victorie. <br />Be Mistriss of your self: and let me thrive <br />Or suffer by your own prerogative. <br />Yet stay, since you are Judge, who in one breath <br />Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death, <br />Remember (Sweet) pity doth best become <br />Those lips which must pronounce a Suitors doome. <br />If I find that, my spark of chast desire <br />Shall kindle into Hymens holy sire: <br />Else like sad flowers will these verses prove, <br />To stick the Coffin of rejected Love.<br /><br />Henry King<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-short-wooing/
