To a Lady, who seeing me in a Languishing Sickness, call'd me — Poor Shadow of Love

Wounds got in War to Warriours graceful show,
Wounds got in Love, are ridicul'd by you.
But Oh! I acted not the Warriour's part,
They lose their Limbs, but I have lost my Heart.
Like wounded Cowards, I am heartless found,
And every fair, who sees me, now may Wound.
No, Charming Maid! I yield not yet to die,
The best defence of Cowards, is to fly.
In vain, in vain your killing Darts pursue,
I am Love's Shadow, Beauty's substance You.