by William Alexander
My face the colours whiles of death displayes,
And I who at my wretched state repine,
This mortall vaile would willingly resigne,
And end my dole together with my dayes;
But Cupid whom my danger most dismayes,
As loth to lose one that decores his shrine,
Straight in my brest doth make Aurora shine,
And by this stratageme my dying stayes.
Then in mine eares he sounds th'Angelike voice,
And to my sight presents the beauteous face,
And cals to mind that more then diuine grace,
Which made me first for to confirme my choice:
And I who all those slights haue oft perceiu'd,
Yet thus content my selfe to be deceiu'd.
Last updated January 14, 2019