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Look in thy soul, and thou shalt beauties find,
E TERNAL virgin, goddess true,
This worthy mind should worthy things embrace: I ove, e'en great Jove hath leisure
Nor her dishonour with thy passion base. A nd hears them oft with pleasure.
E njoy the blessings you impart,
The peace, the milk, and honey, Make not her free will slave to vanity.
Humanity, and civil art,
A richer dow'r than money. And wäer thou think'st of her eternity,
Think not that death against her nature is ; . Right glad am I that now I live,
If after you I should be born,
Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see; A dmiring your sweet story.
TO THE SPRING.
I olly Spring doth enter;
Sweet young sun-beams do subdue
E very meadow flows with balm,
The earth wears all her riches;
Reserve (sweet Spring) this nymph of ours,
In her shall last our state's fair spring,
A s long as Heav'n is lasting.
TO THE MONTH OF MAY .
Each day of thine, sweet month of May,
E arly before the day doth spring;
TO ALL THE PRINCES OF EUROPL E UROPE, the Earth's sweet paradise: L et all thy kings that would be wise, I'n politic devotion, S ail hither to observe her eyes, A nd mark her heav'nly motion.
TO THE LARK E ARLY cheerful mounting lark, Light's gentle usher, morning's clark, 1 o merry notes delighting : Stint awhile thy song, and hark, A nd learn my new inditing. B ear up this hymn, to Heav'n it bear, E'en up to Heav'n, and sing it there, To Heav'n each morning bear it;' Have it set. to some sweet sphere, A nd let the angels hear it. Renown'd Astrea, that great name, Exceeding great in worth and fame, Great worth hath so renown'd it, It is Astrea's name I praise, Now then, sweet lark, do thou it raise, And in high Heaven resound it.
B rave princess of this civil age,
E MPress of flow'rs, tell where away
TO TAE NIGHTINGALE. E v'ry night from ev'n to morn, Love's chorister amid the thorn I s now so sweet a singer, So sweet, as for her song I scorn A pollo's voice and finger. B ut nightingale, sith you delight E ver to watch the starry night, Tell all the stars of Heaven, Hearen never had a star so bright, A s now to Earth is given. Royal Astrea makes our day Eternal with her beams, nor may Gross darkness overcome her; I now perceive why some do write, No country hath so short a night, As England hath in summer.
B eauty, Virtue, Majesty,
TO THE ROSE.
Eye of the garden, queen of flow'rs
TO THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER. E ACH month hath praise in some degree; L et May to others seem to be In sense the sweetest season ; September thou art best to me, A nd best doth please my reason. B ut neither for thy corn nor wine Extol I those mild days of thine, Though corn and wine might praise thee, Heav'n gives thee bonour more divine, A nd higher fortunes raise tbee. Renown'd art thou (sweet month) for this, E mong thy days her birth-day is, G race, Plenty, Peace, and Honour, In one fair hour with her were born, N ow since they still her crown adora, A nd still attend upon her.
OF THE PASSIONS OF HER HEART. EXAMINE not th' inscrutable heart, Light Muse of her, though she in part I mpart it to the subject; Search not, although from Heav'n thou art, A nd this an heav'nly object.
OP HER MEMORY. EXCELLENT jewels would you see, Lovely ladies come with me, I will (for love I owe you) S how you as rich a treasury, A s east or west can show you. Behold, if you can judge of it, E r'n that great store-bouse of her wit, T hat beautiful large table, H er memory, wherein is writ A ll knowledge admirable. Read this fair book, and you shall learn E xquisite skill; if you discern, G ain Heav'n by this discerning; In such a memory divine, Nature did form the Muses nine, A nd Pallas, queen of learning.
B ut since she hath a heart, we know,
OF HER FANCY. E XQUISITE curiosity, Look on thyself with judging eye, If anght be faulty, leave it: So delicate a fantasy As this, will straight perceive it. Because her temper is so fine, Endow'd with harmonies divine; Therefore if discord strike it, H er trae proportions do repine, And sadly do mislike it. Right otherwise a pleasure sweet, E'er she takes in actions meet, G racing with smiles such meetness; In her fair forehead beams appear, No summer's day is half so clear, A dorn'd with half that sweetness.
HYMN XXI. OF THE INNUMERABLE VIRTUES OF HER MIND E RE thou proceed in these sweet pains Learr, Muse, how many drops it rains In cold and moist December; Sum up May flow'rs, and August's grains, A nd grapes of mild September. B ear the sea's sand in memory, Earth's grass, and the stars in the sky, The little moats which mounted, H ang in the beams of Phoebus' eye, A nd never can be counted.
Recount these numbers numberless,
OF HER WISDOM.
OF THE ORGANS OF HER MIND. E clips'o she is, and her bright rays Lie under veils, yet many ways Is her fair form revealed; She diversely herself conveys, And cannot be concealed.
E AGLB-ey'd Wisdom, life's load-star,
By instruments her pow'rs appear
By this straight rule she rectifies