Richard Lovelace

Orpheus to Beasts

I.
 
Here, here, oh here!  Euridice,
       Here was she slaine ;
Her soule 'still’d through a veine:
       The Gods knew lesse
That time Divinitie,
       Then ev’n, ev’n these
       Of brutishnesse.
 
                       II.
 
Oh could you view the Melodie
       Of ev’ry grace,
And Musick of her face,
       You’d drop a teare,
Seeing more Harmonie
       In her bright eye,
       Then now you heare.
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