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Benjamin Jonson
1572-1637

Karolin's Song

THOUGH I am young, and cannot tell,

Either what love, or death is well,

Yet I have heard, yet both bear darts,

And both do aim at human hearts:

And then again, I have been told

Love wounds with heat, as death with cold;

So that I fear, they do but bring

Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.

 

As in a ruin, we it call

One thing to be blown up, or fall;

Or to our end, like way may have,

By a flash of lightning, or a wave:

So love's inflamed shaft, or brand,

May kill as soon as death's cold hand;

Except love's fires the virtue have

To fright the frost from out the grave.

Consider this small dust, here in the glass,
By atoms mov’d:
Could you believe that this the body was
Of one that lov’d;
And in his mistress’ flame playing like a fly,
Was turned to cinders by her eye:
Yes; and in death, as life unblest,
To have ‘t exprest,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman