Ballad: Prophane Love

LOVE is a Net, and Love's a Snare,
A Thief disguis'd is Love;
Poyson below, Honey above,
A Serpent under Flowers most fair,
Fatal as Death, whose bitings are:
A Whirl-pool sounded ne're to be,
And a soul Sea from Tempests never free.

Love is a Lion robb'd of his Prey,
A Wolf with Famin pin'd;
Love is a Fortress undermin'd,
A Fire, whose flames no Floods allay;
Flattery, which does our Life betray;
A Labrinth pleasant to the Eye,
But without Clew to guide the Wand'rer by.

Love is a ck of Ambushments,
A weeping Crocodile;
A Syrene us'd to Sing, and Spoil,
And all the Lovers false Contents,
Are Frauds which he too late resents:
Love's an incurable Disease,
And War eternal mid vain boasts of Peace.

Dirupisti, Domine, vincula mea,
Tibi hostiam laudis Sacrificabo!