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Poem by Michael Drayton


Sonnet 36. Thou Purblind Boy


    Cupid Conjured

Thou purblind boy, since thou hast been so slack
To wound her heart, whose eyes have wounded me,
And suffer'd her to glory in my wrack,
Thus to my aid I lastly conjure thee:
By hellish Styx, by which the Thund'rer swears,
By thy fair mother's unavoided power,
By Hecate's names, by Proserpine's sad tears
When she was rapt to the infernal bower,
By thine own loved Psyche, by the fires
Spent on thine alters flaming up to heav'n,
By all true lovers' sighs, vows, and desires,
By all the wounds that ever thou hast giv'n:
    I conjure thee by all that I have nam'd 
    To make her love, or, Cupid, be thou damn'd.



Michael Drayton


Michael Drayton's other poems:
  1. Roc
  2. Sonnet 56. When like an Eaglet I First Found My Love
  3. Sonnet 39. Some, when in Rhyme They of their Loves do Tell
  4. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
  5. Sonnet 38. Sitting Alone, Love


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