His Farewell to Sack

Farewell thou thing, time past so known, so dearTo me as blood to life and spirit; near,Nay, thou more near than kindred, friend, man, wife,Male to the female, soul to body; lifeTo quick action, or the warm soft sideOf the resigning, yet resisting bride.The kiss of virgins, first fruits of the bed,Soft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead:These and a thousand sweets could never beSo near or dear as thou wast once to me.O thou, the drink of gods and angels! wineThat scatter'st spirit and lust, whose purest shineMore radiant than the summer's sunbeams shows;Each way illustrious, brave, and like to thoseComets we see by night, whose shagg'd portentsForetell the coming of some dire events,

Or some full flame which with a pride aspires,Throwing about his wild and active fires;'Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soul!Eternal in thyself, that can'st controlThat which subverts whole nature, grief and care,Vexation of the mind, and damn'd despair.'Tis thou alone who, with thy mystic fan,Work'st more than wisdom, art, or nature canTo rouse the sacred madness and awakeThe frost-bound blood and spirits, and to makeThem frantic with thy raptures flashing throughThe soul like lightning, and as active too.'Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice threeCastalian sisters, sing, if wanting thee.Horace, Anacreon, both had lost their fame,Had'st thou not fill'd them with thy fire and flame.Phœbean splendour! and thou, Thespian spring!Of which sweet swans must drink before they singTheir true-pac'd numbers and their holy lays,Which makes them worthy cedar and the bays.But why, why longer do I gaze uponThee with the eye of admiration?Since I must leave thee, and enforc'd must sayTo all thy witching beauties, Go, away.But if thy whimpering looks do ask me why,Then know that nature bids thee go, not I.'Tis her erroneous self has made a brain

Uncapable of such a sovereignAs is thy powerful self. Prithee not smile,Or smile more inly, lest thy looks beguileMy vows denounc'd in zeal, which thus much show theeThat I have sworn but by thy looks to know thee.Let others drink thee freely, and desireThee and their lips espous'd, while I admireAnd love thee, but not taste thee. Let my museFail of thy former helps, and only useHer inadult'rate strength: what's done by meHereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.