Sonnet X. O then love I, and draw this weary breath

Samuel Daniel (1562–1619)

O THEN love I, and draw this weary breath

For her, the cruel Fair; within whose brow,

I, written find, the sentence of my death,

In unkind letters, wrought, she cares not how!

O thou that rul’st the confines of the night!

Laughter-loving Goddess! Worldly pleasures’ Queen!

Intenerate that heart! that sets so light

The truest love that ever yet was seen:

And cause her leave to triumph, in this wise,

Upon the prostrate spoil of that poor heart!

That serves a Trophy to her conquering eyes,

And must their glory to the world impart.

Once, let her know! sh’ hath done enough to prove me;

And let her pity, if she cannot love me!