My heart, a thrall to passions fierce and twain,
Doth wage a civil war within its bounds;
One part a loyal vassal, to thy reign,
Another roves on unfamiliar grounds.
This mutinous and schismatick desire
Doth vex the steady course of my true mind,
And breeds in me a discomfiting fire,
To leave the grace for which I am designed.
I strive against this fell and wanton strain,
That bids me seek a hollow, brief delight,
And court the perils of a bitter pain,
And give my soul to endless, starless night.
Though base affections seek to turn my way,
My steadfast love shall hold its holy sway.
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