Explore "Unless Love can Restore her to Life, he will Never again be his Slave (Amor, Se Vuoi Ch' I' Torni Al Giogo Antico)" on Textopian.
If thou wouldst have me, Love, thy slave again, / One other proof, miraculous and new, / Must yet be wrought by you, / Ere, conquer'd, I resume my ancient chain -- / Lift my dear love from earth which hides her now, / For whose sad loss thus beggar'd I remain; / Once more with warmth endow / That wise chaste heart where wont my life to dwell; / And if as some divine, thy influence so, / From highest heaven unto the depths of hell, / Prevail in sooth -- for what its scope below, / 'Mid us of common race, / Methinks each gentle breast may answer well -- / Rob Death of his late triumph, and replace / Thy conquering ensign in her lovely face!
Relume on that fair brow the living light, / Which was my honour'd guide, and the sweet flame.