O turn away those cruel eyes,
   The stars of my undoing! 
Or death, in such a bright disguise,
   May tempt a second wooing.

Punish their blind and impious pride,
   Who dare contemn thy glory! 
It was my fall that deified
   Thy name, and seal’d thy story.

Yet no new suffering can prepare
   A higher praise to crown thee; 
Though my first death proclaim thee fair,
   My second will unthrone thee.

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice
   No other for thy fuel, 
And if thou turn one victim twice,
   and think thee poor or cruel.