Katherine Philips (‘Orinda’) (1632–1664)

TRIUMPHANT Queen of scorn! how ill doth sit

In all that sweetness, such injurious wit!

Unjust and cruel? what can be your prize,

To make one heart a double sacrifice?

Where such ingenious rigour you do show,

To break his heart, you break his image too;

And by a tyranny that ’s strange and new

You murther him because he worships you.

No pride can raise you, or can make him start,

Since Love and Honour do enrich his heart.

Be wise and good, lest when fate will be just,

She should o’erthrow those glories in the dust,

Rifle your beauties, and you thus forlorn

Make a cheap victim to another’s scorn;

And in those fetters which you do upbraid,

Yourself a wretched captive may be made.

Redeem the poisoned Age, let it be seen

There’s no such freedom as to serve a Queen.

But you I see are lately Round-head grown,

And whom you vanquish you insult upon.