Poems, &c. written upon several occasions, and to several persons by Edmond Waller.
Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687.

The Self Banished.

IT is not that I love you less
Than when before your feet I lay:
But to prevent the sad encrease
Of hopeless Love, I keep away.
In vain (alas!) for every thing
Which I have known belong to you,
Your Form does to my Fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.
Page  53
Who in the Spring from the new Sun,
Already has a Fever got,
Too late begins those shafts to shun,
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot;
Too late he would the pain asswage,
And to thick shadows does retire;
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted bloud the Fire.
But vow'd I have, and never must
Your banisht servant trouble you;
For if I break, you may mistrust
The vow I made to love you too.