Philip Ayres - The Proem: To Love lyrics

Let others sing of Mars, and of his train, Of great exploits, and honourable scars, The many dire effects of Civil Wars, d**h's triumphs, and encomiums of the slain. I sing the conflicts I myself sustain, With her (Great Love) the cause of all my cares, Who wounds with looks, and fetters with her hairs. This mournful tale requires a tragic strain. Eyes were the Arms, did first my Peace control, Wounded by them, a source of Tears there sprung, Running like blood from my afflicted soul; Thou Love, to whom this conquest does belong, Leave me at least the comfort to condole, And as thou wound'st my Heart, inspire my Song.