Elegy 15

Be kind (blind Boy) and let not her alone;
Tis tyranny in thee to shoot at one.
Me thou hast wounded, she untouch'd remains;
Slights all my Sighs, and credits not my pains.
If th' hast an Arrow (though but one) behind
Strike her, and make us both be of one mind.
Thou God of Love born in an happy hour
In some fresh Garden in some flowry Bower,
I, by thy wings fill'd with the sighes of thy
Fast-erter'd Subjects, by thy Quiver, and by
Thy fatal Bow, by Venus drawn along
Olympus Star-pav'd Courts (the Gods among)
If thou dost ever hope eternal Jove
Will eyes vouchsafe unto the God of Love;
By these and more I do beseech thine aide,
Or make me mine, or mine, this Angel-Maide.
Pity my misery, and take my part;
Or heal my wound, or wound her cruel heart.
Fair Love! Sole Centre of my thoughts! to you
I am a Suppliant, be my Judge and true;
Censure my passons, prayers, affections, me
Throughly and narrowly, and (if you see
No fault in me, as you no fault shall finde)
Leave off your cruelty, and be you kinde.
Use me according to my love, if I
Adore you not, let me unpitied die.