Love in fantastic triumph sat,
 Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,
 For whom fresh pains he did create,
 And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;
 From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
 Which round about in sport he hurl'd;
 But 'twas from mine he took desire
 Enough to undo the amorous world.

 From me he took his sighs and tears,
 From thee his pride and cruelty;
 From me his languishments and fears,
 And every killing dart from thee;
 Thus thou and I the God have arm'd,
 And set him up a Deity;
 But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
 Whilst thine the victor is, and free.