To Pity

Wake, Pity, wake! for thou hast slept too long
Within the tig'rish heart of that fierce fair
Who ruins most where most she should repair,
And where she owes most right doth greatest wrong.
Wake, Pity, wake! Oh do no more prolong
Thy needful help, but quickly hear my prayer;
Quickly, alas! for otherwise Despair,
By guilty death, will end my guiltless wrong.
Sweet Pity, wake, and tell my cruel sweet
That if my death her honour might increase,
I would lay down my life at her proud feet,
And willing die, and dying, hold my peace.
And only live, and living, mercy cry,
Because her glory in my death will die.