| |
| BEFORE bright TITAN raised his team | |
| Or lovely Morn with rosy cheek, | |
| With scarlet dyed the Eastern stream, | |
| On PHŒBUS’ day, first of the week; | |
| Early, my goddess did arise, | 5 |
| With breath to bless the morning air. | |
| O heavens, which made divine mine eyes! | |
| Glancing on such a Nymph! so fair! | |
| Whose Hair, downspread in curled tresses, | |
| PHŒBUS his glitter and beams withstood: | 10 |
| Much like him, when, through cypresses, | |
| He danceth on the silver flood; | |
| Or like the golden purlèd down, | |
| Broached upon the palmed-flowered willows, | |
| Which downward scattered from her crown, | 15 |
| Loosely dishevelled on love’s pillows. | |
| Covering her swan-like back below | |
| Like ivory matched with purest gold; | |
| Like PHŒBE when on whitest snow | |
| Her gilded shadow taketh hold. | 20 |
| Her Forehead was like to the rose | |
| Before ADONIS pricked his feet! | |
| Or like the path to heaven which goes, | |
| Where all the lovely Graces meet! | |
| CUPID’s rich Chariot stood under! | 25 |
| Moist pearl about the wheels was set! | |
| Grey agate spokes, not much asunder! | |
| The axletree of purest jet! | |
| Her seemly Nose, the rest which graced, | |
| For CUPID’s Trophy was upreared! | 30 |
| Th’ imperial Thrones, where LOVE was placed | |
| When, of the world, he would be feared. | |
| Where CUPID, with sweet VENUS sate | |
| Her cheeks with rose and lilies decked, | |
| Nature upon the coach did wait, | 35 |
| And all in order did direct. | |
| Her Cheeks to damask roses sweet, | |
| In scent and colour were so like; | |
| That honey bees in swarms would meet | |
| To suck; and, sometimes, She would strike | 40 |
| With dainty plume, the bees to fear! | |
| And being beaten, they would sting! | |
| They found such heavenly honey there; | |
| CUPID, which there sate triumphing, | |
| When he perceived the bee did sting her | 45 |
| Would swell for grief, and curse that bee, | |
| More than the bee that stinged his finger! | |
| Yet still about her they would flee! | |
| Then LOVE to VENUS would complain | |
| Of Nature, which his chariot drest! | 50 |
| Nature would it excuse again, | |
| Saying, “She then shewed her skill best!” | |
| When she drank wine, upon her face, | |
| BACCHUS would dance! and spring to kiss! | |
| And shadow, with a blushing grace, | 55 |
| Her cheeks, where lovers build their bliss: | |
| Who, when she drank, would blush for shame | |
| That wanton BACCHUS she should use; | |
| Who, VENUS’ brother, might defame | |
| Her, that should such acquaintance choose! | 60 |
| What gloss the scarlet curtains cast | |
| On a bedstead of ivory. | |
| Such like, but such as much surpasst | |
| All gloss, her cheeks did beautify. | |
| Her roseate Lips, soft lovely swelling, | 65 |
| And full of pleasure as a cherry; | |
| Her Breath of divine spices smelling, | |
| Which, with tongue broken, would make merry | |
| Th’ infernal souls; and, with her voice, | |
| Set heaven gates open, hell gates shut, | 70 |
| Move melancholy to rejoice, | |
| And thralled in Paradise might put. | |
| Her Voice, not human, when she speaketh | |
| I think some angel or goddess, | |
| Into celestial tunes which breaketh, | 75 |
| Speaks like her, with such cheerfulness. | |
| All birds and instruments may take | |
| Their notes divine and excellent, | |
| Melodious harmony to make, | |
| From her sweet voices’ least accent. | 80 |
| This we Love’s Sanctuary call! | |
| Whence Sacred Sentences proceed, | |
| Rolled up in sounds angelical; | |
| Whose place, sweet Nature hath decreed, | |
| Just under CUPID’s Trophy fixed, | 85 |
| Where music hath its excellence | |
| And such sweets, with Love’s spirit mixed, | |
| As please far more than frankincense, | |
| Thence, issue forth Love’s Oracles | |
| Of Happiness, and luckless Teen! | 90 |
| So strange be Love’s rare miracles | |
| In her, as like have never been! | |
| Her Neck that curious axletree, | |
| Pure ivory like, which doth support | |
| The Globe of my Cosmography: | 95 |
| Where, to my Planets I resort | |
| To take judicial signs of skill, | |
| When tempests to mine heart will turn? | |
| When showers shall my fountains fill? | |
| And extreme droughts mine heart shall burn? | 100 |
| There, in that Globe, shall I perceive | |
| When I shall find clear Element; | |
| There, gloomy mists shall I conceive, | |
| Which shall offend the Firmament! | |
| On this, my studies still be bent, | 105 |
| Where even as rivers from the seas | |
| In branches through the land be sent, | |
| And into crooked sinews press, | |
| Throughout the globe such wise the veins | |
| Clear crystalline throughout her neck | 110 |
| Like sinuous, in their crooked trains, | |
| Wildly the swelling waves did check. | |
| Thence, rise her humble seemly Shoulders. | |
| Like two smooth polished ivory tops; | |
| Of Love’s chief Frame, the chief upholders, | 115 |
| Whiter than that was of PELOPS! | |
| Thence, CUPID’s five-grained mace out brancheth; | |
| Which fivefold, the five Senses woundeth. | |
| Whose sight the mind of lookers lanceth. | |
| Whose force, all other force astoundeth. | 120 |
| Thence, to that bed, where LOVE’s proud Queen, | |
| In silent majesty, sweet sleepeth; | |
| Where her soft lovely pillows been, | |
| Where CUPID, through love’s conduits creepeth. | |
| Pillows of VENUS’ turtles’ down! | 125 |
| Pillows, than VENUS’ turtles softer! | |
| Pillows, the more where LOVE lies down | |
| More covets to lie down and ofter! | |
| Pillows, on which two sweet Rosebuds, | |
| Dewed with ambrosial nectar lie; | 130 |
| Where Love’s Milk-Way, by springs and floods, | |
| Through violet paths, smooth slideth by. | |
| But now, with fears and tears, proceed | |
| LOVE’s Place of Torture to declare! | |
| Which such calamity doth breed | 135 |
| To those which there imprisoned are; | |
| Which, once in chains, are never free! | |
| Which still for want of succour pine! | |
| Dry sighs, salt-wat’ry tears, which be | |
| For dainty cakes and pleasant wine! | 140 |
| Immured with pure white ivory, | |
| Fetters of adamant to draw, | |
| Even steel itself, if it be nigh! | |
| A bondage without right or law! | |
| With poor ACTEON overthrown | 145 |
| But for a look! and with an eye | |
| In his clear arms, LOVE’s Sergeant known, | |
| Arrests each lover that goes by. | |
| This is her Heart! Love’s Prison called! | |
| Whose conquest is impregnable. | 150 |
| Whence, who so chance to be enthralled, | |
| To come forth after, are unable. | |
| Further to pass than I have seen, | |
| Or more to shew than may be told; | |
| Were too much impudence! I ween: | 155 |
| Here, therefore, take mine anchor hold! | |
| And with the Roman Poet, deem | |
| Parts unrevealed to be most sweet; | |
| Which here described, might evil beseem | |
| And for a modest Muse unmeet. | 160 |
| Such blessed mornings seldom be! | |
| Such sights too rare when men go by! | |
| Would I but once the like might see; | |
| Then I might die, before I die! | |
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