A La Bourbon. Done Moy Plus De Pitie Ou Plus De Creaulte, Car Sans Ci Ie Ne Puis Pas Viure, Ne Morir



I.
Divine Destroyer, pitty me no more,
    Or else more pitty me;
Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more,
    Or else more cruelty!
      For left thus as I am,
      My heart is ice and flame;
    And languishing thus, I
    Can neither live nor dye!

                   II.
Your glories are eclipst, and hidden in the grave
    Of this indifferency;
And, Caelia, you can neither altars have,
    Nor I, a Diety:
      They are aspects divine,
      That still or smile, or shine,
    Or, like th' offended sky,
    Frowne death immediately.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 14, 2023

27 sec read
75

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCBCXXAA AXXXXDDAC
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 537
Words 90
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 9, 9

Richard Lovelace

Richard Lovelace was an English poet more…

All Richard Lovelace poems | Richard Lovelace Books

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    "A La Bourbon. Done Moy Plus De Pitie Ou Plus De Creaulte, Car Sans Ci Ie Ne Puis Pas Viure, Ne Morir" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/30117/a-la-bourbon.-done-moy-plus-de-pitie-ou-plus-de-creaulte,-car-sans-ci-ie-ne-puis-pas-viure,-ne-morir>.

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