Page:The Works of Abraham Cowley - volume 2 (ed. Aikin) (1806).djvu/79

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THE FRAILTY.
63
What cursed weed 's this Love! but one grain sow,
And the whole field 't will overgrow;
Straight will it choke up and devour
Each wholesome herb and beauteous flower!
Nay, unless something soon I do,
'T will kill, I fear, my very laurel too.

But now all's gone-I now, alas! complain,
Declare, protest, and threat, in vain;
Since, by my own unforc'd consent,
The traitor has my government,
And is so settled in the throne,
That 't were rebellion now to claim mine own.



THE FRAILTY.

I know ’tis sordid and ’tis low
(All this as well as you I know)
Which I so hotly now pursue
(I know all this as well as you);
But, whilst this cursed flesh I bear,
And all the weakness and the baseness there,
Alas! alas! it will be always so.

In vain, exceedingly in vain,
I rage sometimes, and bite my chain;
Yet to what purpose do I bite
With teeth which ne'er will break it quite?