The Poetry Corner

A Deposition From Love

By Thomas Carew

I was foretold, your rebell sex, Nor love, nor pitty knew; And with what scorn you use to vex Poor hearts that humbly sue; Yet I believd, to crown our pain, Could we the fortress win, The happy Lover sure should gain A Paradise within: I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate, Only to fright us at the gate. But I did enter, and enjoy What happy Lovers prove; For I could kiss, and sport, and toy, And taste those sweets of love; Which had they but a lasting state, Or if in Celias brest The force of love might not abate, Jove were too mean a guest. But now her breach of faith, farre more Afflicts, than did her scorn before. Hard fate! to have been once possest, As victor, of a heart Atchievd with labour, and unrest, And then forcd to depart. If the stout Foe will not resigne When I besiege a Town, I lose, but what was never mine; But he that is cast down From enjoyd beauty, feels a woe, Only deposed Kings can know.