Vast was his soul some favorite above br Whose bolder pencil made a boy of love br A boy he thought him lovers less then boyes br Who barter all things for a crop of toyes br He wisely too his roving pow'r bestowd— br & in unconstant feathers drest the God br for now we love anon we hate ye same br Fantastick passion varyes all extreams br Justly he drew him for his play things darts br The little wanton sports with bleeding hearts br Justly he drew them to my cost Ive found br Unseen they fly & still secure to wound br his arms & younger follys fill my heart br But he has lost or hid his better part br His wings no more their heav'nly burthen bear br He sitts an everlasting trouble here br My bloud he fires torments my wretched breast br Drains all my bones & robs my soul of rest br Cease cruell master fly to fuller veines br Your slave is wasted with incessant pains br Imploy your force on something I alas br Am but the shadow of the man I was br Why shoud I dy who live but for your use br & to your part debauch the virgin muse br Who write of nought but arrows flames & eyes br & sing your brightest servants to the skyes.