Song by Elizabeth Malet Wilmot

Nothing ades to Loves fond fire
More then scorn and cold disdain
I to cherish your desire
kindess used but twas in vain
you insulted on your Slave
To be mine you soon refused
Hope hope not then the power to have
Which ingloriously you used
Thinke not Thersis I will ere
By my love my Empire loose
you grow Constant through dispare
kindness you would soon abuse
Though you still possess my hart
Scorn and rigor I must fain
there remaines noe other art
your Love fond fugitive to gain.

From: Greer, Germaine; Hastings, Susan; Medoff, Jeslyn and Sansone, Melinda (eds.), Kissing the Rod: An Anthology of Seventeenth-Century Women’s Verse, 1988, Farrar Strauss Giroux: New York, pp. 230-231.

Date: 1680

By: Elizabeth Malet Wilmot (1651-1681)

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