| |
| FAREWELL! Nay, prithee turn again; | |
| Rather than lose thee I’ll arraign | |
| Myself before thee! thou (most fair!) shall be | |
| Thyself the judge: | |
| I’ll never grudge | 5 |
| A law ordained by thee. | |
| |
| Pray do but see how every rose | |
| A sanguine visage doth disclose; | |
| O! see what aromatic gusts they breathe; | |
| Come, here we’ll sit, | 10 |
| And learn to knit | |
| Them up into a wreath. | |
| |
| With that wreath crownèd shalt thou be; | |
| Not graced by it, but it by thee; | |
| Then shall the fawning zephyrs wait to hear | 15 |
| What thou shalt say, | |
| And softly play, | |
| While news to me they bear. | |
| |
| See how they revelling appear | |
| Within the windings of thy hair, | 20 |
| See how they steal the choicest odours from | |
| The balmy spring, | |
| That they may bring | |
| Them to thee, when they come. | |
| |
| Look how the daffodils arise, | 25 |
| Cheer’d by the influence of thine eyes, | |
| And others emulating them deny; | |
| They cannot strain | |
| To bloom again, | |
| Where such strong beams do fly. | 30 |
| |
| Be not ungrateful, but lie down, | |
| Since for thy sake so brisk they’re grown, | |
| And such a downy carpet have bespread, | |
| That pure delight | |
| Is freshly dight, | 35 |
| And trick’d in white and red. | |
| |
| Be conquer’d by such charms, there shall | |
| Not always such enticements fall; | |
| What know we, whether that rich spring of light | |
| Will stanch his streams | 40 |
| Of golden beams, | |
| Ere the approach of night. | |
| |
| How know we whether ’t shall not be | |
| The last to either thee or me? | |
| He can at will his ancient brightness gain; | 45 |
| But thou and I, | |
| When we shall die, | |
| Shall still in dust remain. | |
| |
| Come, prithee come, we’ll now essay | |
| To piece the scant’ness of the day, | 50 |
| We’ll pluck the wheels from th’ chariot of the sun, | |
| That he may give | |
| Us time to live, | |
| Till that our scene be done. | |
| |
| W’ are in the blossom of our age, | 55 |
| Let us dance o’er, not tread the stage; | |
| Though fear and sorrow strive to pull us back, | |
| And still present | |
| Doubts of content, | |
| They shall not make us slack. | 60 |
| |
| We’ll suffer viperous thoughts and cares | |
| To follow after silver hairs; | |
| Let’s not anticipate them long before, | |
| When they begin | |
| To enter in, | 65 |
| Each minute they’ll grow more. | |
| |
| No, no, Romira, see this brook, | |
| How ’t would its posting course revoke | |
| Ere it shall in the ocean mingled lie; | |
| And what, I pray, | 70 |
| May cause this stay, | |
| But to attest our joy? | |
| |
| Far be’t from lust; such wildfire ne’er | |
| Shall dare to lurk or kindle here; | |
| Diviner flames shall in our fancies roll, | 75 |
| Which not depress | |
| To earthliness, | |
| But elevate the soul. | |
| |
| Then shall aggrandis’d love confess | |
| That souls can mingle substances, | 80 |
| That hearts can eas’ly counter-changèd be, | |
| Or at the least | |
| Can alter breasts, | |
| When breasts themselves agree. | |
| |
