Penthea's Dying Song

By John Ford (1586-1640?).

Oh° no more, no more, too late
  Sighs are spent; the burning tapers
Of a life as chaste as fate,
  Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burnt out; no heat, no light        5
Now remains; ’tis ever night.
  Love is dead; let lovers’ eyes
  Locked in endless dreams,
  Th’ extremes of all extremes,
  Ope no more, for now Love dies,        10
Now Love dies—implying
Love’s martyrs must be ever, ever dying.

Notes

Line 1: Oh. From The Broken Heart, 1633. [Braithwaite]