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A substance and engendered deity,
'Twixt Mars and Venns in adulterate kind, Then if not wholly voice, since body too,
Or yet if echo, hark! So may thy fair Narcissus soft relent and learn to woo!
But why concealed thus dost thou deelare Thyself like him self-loving ? if not so,
Why art thou nought but voice wrapt up in air?
When young April once a year
On seeing a Lady Bathing in the River Betis.
Betis ! whilst pretty philomel doth sing,
And to thy silver noise her treble raise:
'Mongst well-tun'd leaves with gentle murmuring ;Comb smooth thy sedge, thy red sands freely fling
On the green bank that thy o'erflowing stays ;
Cast them in golden knots through all the ways My Nisa treads: when she doth nearer bring Her, clearer than thy christal, limbs, chastise Thy swifter course, and may no mutinous air
Then blow, but let the stream glide gently by. But draw that ivory curtain from mine eyes, Unveil thy aabaster, goddess fair !
Though I Actaan, thou Diana be!
At the foot of a mountain white
Clad all in snow,
Celio as in a dream,
Drives to and fro:
Then doth he see,
Sands like Arabian gold,
In christal veils,
their heads from those fresh seas,
His loss bewails.
Adonis too ;
Acanthus the boy doth appear;
In a flower of his name,
That scorned to woo.
His harp he brings,
With the sweet sound he cheers,
And thus be sings-
Swain weep no more !
On grassy shore.
Come to the shade,
By cool leaves made.
And let echo ring,
Introductory to a fresh discourse.
As a poor bark distrest by waves and wind,
When this grows angry and the seas go high, No ease nor safety, rudely toss’d can find,
By compass steer she ne'er so cunningly;
By air, if she the help of sails apply,
So an unheedy vessel do I live,
"Till I afresh had launched into the main, Where, whatsoe'er resistance my bark give,
From the white froth I mount, then fall again; Then rise, then tumble down as low as hell.
The sun is set, gone down to the cool shade ;
The misted brightness of his piercing eye,
Covered with black clouds in th' eastern sky,-My cruel fair to restfull sleep hath laid: Now murderers walk, and such as are afraid
Of day's clear light: now chaunteth mournfully
The turtle chaste;-complaints to multiply Gins she whom crafty Tereus once betray'd. O night, thou image of sad absence ! tell My Lisis, her two suns are set from me
For ever; if it chance that she do sleep, May Morpheus wake her with a dream from hell, Tell her of her disdain, my jealousy;
That though I present am, I, absent weep!
On a Lady killed by a fall in attempting to elope with
Pure spirit! that leav'st thy body to our moan,
Look, if the soul can downward look, and see
Here Lisis lies, that leapt from vital breath,
The simple turtle dove,
To thy true faith, firm love:
With art thou dost contrive,
Why do I longer strive?