<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498921" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Dialogue Betwixt Cordanus And Amoret, On A Lost Heart</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cord. Distressed pilgrim, whose dark clouded eyes<br> Speak thee a martyr to love's cruelties,<br> Whither away?<br>Amor. What pitying voice I hear,<br> Calls back my flying steps?<br>Cord. Pr'ythee, draw near.<br>Amor. I shall but say, kind swain, what doth become<br> Of a lost heart, ere to Elysium<br> It wounded walks?<br>Cord. First, it does freely flye<br> Into the pleasures of a lover's eye;<br> But, once condemn'd to scorn, it fetter'd lies,<br> An ever-bowing slave to tyrannies.<br>Amor. I pity its sad fate, since its offence<br> Was but for love. Can tears recall it thence?<br>Cord. O no, such tears, as do for pity call,<br> She proudly scorns, and glories at their fall.<br>Amor. Since neither sighs nor tears, kind shepherd, tell,<br> Will not a kiss prevail?<br>Cord. Thou may'st as well<br> Court Eccho with a kiss.<br>Amor. Can no art move<br> A sacred violence to make her love?<br>Cord. O no! 'tis only Destiny or Fate<br> Fashions our wills either to love or hate.<br>Amor. Then, captive heart, since that no humane spell<br> Hath power to graspe thee his, farewell.<br>Cord. Farewell.<br>Cho. Lost hearts, like lambs drove from their folds by fears,<br> May back return by chance, but not by tears.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498921" data-title="A Dialogue Betwixt Cordanus And Amoret, On A Lost Heart de Richard Lovelace" data-description="Cord. Distressed pilgrim, whose dark clouded eyes Speak thee a martyr to love's cruelties, Whither away? Amor. What pitying voice I hear, Calls back my flying steps? Cord. Pr'ythee, draw near. Amor. I shall but say, kind swain, what doth beco..."></div> </div> </div>

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