Elegy XVIII. If neither Love, nor Pity can procure

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

IF neither Love, nor Pity can procure

Thy ruthless heart subscribe to my content;

But if thou vow that I shall still endure

This doubtful fear, which ever doth torment!

If to thine eyes, thine heart can lend a fire,

Whiles cold disdain, upon them sets a lock

To bar forth Pity, which kind hearts desire,

Whiles the distressèd make prayers to a rock!

If that thine eyes send out a sunny smile

From underneath a cloudy frown of hate!

Plain love with counterfeasance, to beguile;

Which, at thy windows, for some grace await!

If thou, thine ears can open to thy praise,

And them, with that report delighted, cherish.

And shut them, when the Passionate assays

To plead for pity, then about to perish!

If thou canst cherish graces in thy cheek,

For men to wonder at, which thee behold!

And they find furies, when thine heart they seek,

And yet prove such as are extremely cold!

Now as I find no thought to man’s conceit;

Then must I swear, to woman’s, no deceit!