How long, how long do ye still mean, mine eyes,
To drain the nectarous draught of Love divine?
Have not ye learned at last to be more wise
Than thus to drink of beauty's unmixed wine? As far, far off as me my strength may bring,
Let me escape, and there in calm and ease,
I will pour out a sober offering
And seek a milder Cypris to appease. But if ev'n there the cruel sting pursue,
Oh, then, mine eyes, chill tears forever rain!
Eternal toil be your deservè d due;
Through you I fell upon this fiery pain.