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Ax! whither, Love! wilt thou now carry me? What time this world's great Workmafter å What wontless fury dost thou now inspire

cast Into my feeble breast, too full of thee?

To make all things such as we now behold, Whilf seeking to aflake thy raging fire,

It seems that he before his eyes had plac'd 'Thou in me kindlest much more great desire,

A goodly pattern, to whose perfect mould And up aloft above my strength doft raise

He fashion'd them as comely as he could, The wondrous natter of my fire to praise, That now so fair and seemly they appear,

As nought may be amended any where.
That as I earst, in praise of thine own name,
So now in honour of thy mother dear,

That wondrous patteru, wherefoere it be, An honourable Hymn ) eke should frame,

Whether in earth laid up in secret ftore, And with the brightness of her beauty clear, Or else in heaven, that no man may it sce The ravisht hearts of gazeful men might rear With sinful eyes, for fear it to deflore, To admiration of that heavenly light,

Is perfect Beauty, which all men adore, From whence proceeds such soul-enchanting whose face and feature doth so much excel might.

All mortal sense, that none the same may tell Thereto do thou, great Goddess! Queen of Thereof as cvery earthly thing partakes Beauty,

Or more or less, by influence divine, Mother of Love, and of all worlds delight,

So it more fair accordingly it makes, Without whose lovereign grace and kindly duty

And the gross matter of this earthly mine Nothing on earth seems fair to fleshly fight,

Which closeth it thereafter doth refine, Do thou vouchsafe with thy love-kindling light

Doing away the dross which dims the light T'illuminate my dim and dulled eyn,

Of that fair beam which therein is empight. And beautify this Sacred Hymn of thine :

For through infusion of celestial powre, That both to thee, to whom I mean it most,

The duller carth it quickneth with deligti, And eke to her, whose fair immortal beam

And life-full spirits privily doth poure
Hath darted fire into my fechle ghost,
That now it waftcd is with woe's extream,

Through all the parts, that to the looker's lieto

They seem to please ; that is thy sovereign mg" It may so please, that she at length will stream Some dew of grace into my wither'd heart,

O Cyprian qucen: which flowing from the braai After long sorrow and consuming smart.

of thy bright ftar, thou into them doft ftrcz


That is the thing which giveth pleasant grace And lively spirits from that fairelt ftar
To all things fair, that kindleth lively fire, Which lighıs the world forth from his fiery car.
Light of thy lamp, which shining in the face,
Thence to the soul darts amorous desire,

Which powre retaining still or more or less And robs the hearts of those which it admire ; When she in fleshly feed is eft enraced, Therewith thou pointest thy son's poil'ned arrow, Through every part the doth the same impress, That wounds the life, and waltes the inmoft According as the heavens have her graced,

And frames her house, in which she will be placed,

Fit for her self, adorning it with spoil How vainly then do idle wits invent,

Of th' heavenly riches which the robb'd ereThat Beauty is nought else but mixture made

while. Of colours fair, and goodly temp'rament Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade Thereof it comes, that these fair fouls, which And pass away, like to a summer's shade;

have Or that it is bui comely composition

The most resemblance of that heavenly light, Of parts well measur'd, with meet disposition;

Frame to themselves most beautiful and brave

Their fleshly bowre, most fit for cheir delight, Hath white and red is it such wondrous powre,

And the gross matter by a sovereign might That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the Temper fo crim, that it may well be seen heart,

A palace fit for such a virgin queen.
And therein stir such rage and restlesse stowre,
As nought but death can stint his doloroys smart?

So every spirit, as it is most pure,
Or can proportion of the outward part

And hath in it the more of heavenly light, Move such affection in the inward mind,

So it the fairer body doch procure That it can rob both sense and reason blind ?

To habit, and it more fairely dight

With chearful grace and amiable light; Why do not then the blossoms of the field, For of the soul the body form doth take; Which are array'd with much more orienc hue, For foul is form, and doth the body make. And to the sense most dainty odours yield, Work like impression in the looker's view? Therefore where-ever that thou doft behold Or why do not fair pictures like powre shew, A comely corpse, with beauty fair endewed, In which oft-times we Nature fee of Art

Know this for certain, that the same doth hold Excell'd, in perfect limming every part ?

A beauteous fiul, with fair conditions thewed,

Fit to receive the seed of vertue strewed; But ah! believe me there is more than so,

For all that fair is, is by nature good ; That works such wonders in the minds of men; That is a sign to know the gentle blood.

that have often prov'd too well it know, And whoso lift the like assays to ken,

Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind shall find by trial, and confess it then,

Dwells in deformed tabernacle dround, That Beauty is not, as fond men misdeem, Either by chance, against the course of kind, In outward Ihew of things that only seem. Or througlo unaptness in the substance found,

Which it assumed of some stubborn ground, for that same goodly hue of white and red, That will not yield unto her form’s direction, With which the cheeks are sprinkled, Shall But is perform'd with some foul imperfection.

decay, And those sweet rosie leaves, so fairly spred And oft it falls (ay me, the more to rue!). Ipon the lips, shall fade and fall away

That goodly Beauty, albe heavenly born, so that they were, even to corrupted clay : Is foul abuľby and chat celestial hue, That golden wire, those sparkling stars to bright, Which doth the world with her delight adorn, shall turn to dult, and lolc their goodly light. Malle but the bait of fin, and finners' lcorn,

Whilft every one doth seek and sue to have it, But that fair lamp, from whose celestial ray But every one doch seck but to deprave it. That light proceeds, which kindleth lovers' fire, Shall never be extinguisht, nor decay,

Yet nathenvore is that fair Beauty's blame,

But theirs that do abuse it unto ill:
But when the vital spirits do expire,
Unto her native planct shall retire;

Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame For it is heavenly born and cannot die,

May be corrupt, and wrested unto will : Being a parcell of the pureit sky.

Nathelels the foul is fair and bealiteous still,

However flethes fault it filthy make,
For when the soul, the which derived was, For things immortal no corruption take.
At first, out of that great immortal spright,

But ye, fair Dames! the world's dear ornamients, By whom all live to love, whylom did pass

And lively images of heaven's light, Down from the top of purest heaven's hight to be embodied here, it then took light

Lct 1i0t your beams with such disparagements

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Be dimm'd, and your bright glory darkned | And then conforming it unto the light, quite;

Which in itself it hath renaining still

, But mindful still of your first country's sight, Of that first sun, yet sparkling in his fight, Do still preserve your first informed grace,

Thereof he fashions in his higher skill Whose shadow yet shines in your beauteous face. An heavenly beauty to his fancy's will,

And it ernbracing in his mind entire, Loath that foul blot, that bellish firebrand, The mirrour of his own thought doth adain, . Disloyal luft, fair Beauty's foulest blame, That base affection, which your cars would bland, which seeing now so inly fair to be, Commend to you by Love's abused name, As outward it appeareth to the eye, But is indeed the bond-save of Defame,

And with his spirit's proportion to agree, Which will the girland of your glory mar,

He thereon fixing all his fantasie, And quench the light of your bright-shining and fully setteth his felicity, star.

Counting it fairer than it is indeed,

And yet indeed her fairness doth exceed. But gentle Love, that loyal is and true, Will more illumine your resplendent ray,

For lovers' eyes more sharply lighted be And add more brightness to your goodly hue,

Than other mens, and in dear love's deligh: From light of his pure fire, which by like way

See more than any other eyes can see, Kindled of your's, your likeness doth display ;

Through mutual receipt of beames bright, Like as two mirrours by oppor'd reflection,

Which carry privy message to the spright, Do both express the face's first impression.

And to their eyes that inmot fair display,

As plain as light discovers dawning day. Therefore to make your beauty more appear, It you bchoves to love, and forth to lay

Therein they see, through amorous eye-glas That heavenly riches which in you ye bear,

Armies of Loves still flying to and fro, 'That men the more admire their fountain may;

Which dart at them their Little fiery lavoces; For else what booteth that celestial ray,

Whom having wounded, back again they 59 If it in darkness be enshrined ever,

Carrying compassion to their lovely foe; That it of loving eyes be viewed never ?

Who seeing her fair eyes' so sharp effe&,

Cures all their sorrows with one sweet afpen. But in your choice of loves this well advise, That likest to your selves ye them select,

In which how many wonders do they reed The which your forms' first source may fympa- To their conceit, that others never see? thize,

Now of her smiles, with which their soul And with like beauty's parts be inly deckt;

feed, For if you loosely love without resped,

Like gods with nectar in their banquets free; It is not love, but a discordant war,

Now of her looks, which like to cordials be; Whole unlike parts amongst theniselves do jar,

But when her words' embassade forth ihe ferry

Lord, how sweet mulick that unto them leau For love is a celestial harmony Of likely hearts compor'd of stars' consent,

Sometimes upon her forehead they behold Which join together in sweet sympathy,

A thousand graces masking in delight, To work each other's joy and true consent,

Sometimes within her eye-lids they linfold Which they have harbour'd lince their first Ten thousand sweet belgards, which to descent

fight Out of their heavenly bowres, where they did sec, Do seem like twinkling stars in frosty night; And know cach other here beloy'd to be.

But on her lips, like rosie buds in May,

So many millions of chalte Pleasures play. Then wrong it were that any other twain Should in Love's gentle band combined be All those, o Cytherea ! and thousands more But those whom Heaven did at first ordain, Thy handmaids be, which do on thee attend, And made out of one mould the more t'agree; Tu deck thy beauty with their dainties' tart, For all that like the beauty which they fee That may it more to mortal eyes commerd, Straight do riot love; for Love is not so light And make it more admir'd of foe and friend, As straight to burn at first beholder's sight. That in mens hearts thou maist the thru

install, But they which love indeed look otherwise, And spread thy lovely kingdom over all. With pure regard and spotlefs true intent, Drawing out of the objcct of their eyes

Then lö, triumph! O great Beauty's Cueca, A more refined form, which they present Advance the banner of thy conquest high, Unto their mind, void of all blemishment; That all this world, the which thy vaflàl: been, Which it reducing to her first perfection,

May draw to thee, and with due fealty Beholdeth free from flcth's frail infection. Adore the powre of the great majelly,

Singing this Hymn in honour of thy name, And you fair Venus' dcarling, my dear Dread! Compil'd by me, which thy poor liegeman am ! Fresh flowre of grace, great goddess of my life,

When your fair eyes thele fearful lines fall In lieu whereof grant, O great Sovereign!

read, That the whole conquering beauty doth captive Deign to let fall one drop of due relief, My trembling heart in her eternal chain,

That may recure my heart's long pining grief, One drop of grace at length will to me give,

And thew what wondrous powre your beauty That I her bounden thrall by her may live,

hath. And this fame lise, which first from me she reaved, That can restore a damned wight from death. May owe to her, of whom I it received.

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Love, lift me up upon thy golden wings It lovd it self, because it self was fair,
From this base world unto thy heavens hight, (For fair is lov'd, and of it self begot
Where I may see those admirable things

Like to it self his eldest Son and heir,
Which there thou workest by thy sovereign might, Eternal, pure, and void of finful blot,
Far above feeble reach of earthly light,

The firstling of his joy, in whom no jot That I thereof an heavenly Hymn may sing Of love's dilike or pride was to be found, Unto the God of Love, high Heaven's King. Whom he therefore with equal honour crown'd. Many lewd lays (ah! woe is me the more !) With him he reign’d, before all time prescribed, In praise of that mad fit which fools call Love, In endless glory and immortal might, I have in th' heat of youth made heretofore, Together with that third from them derived, That in light wits did loose affedlion move; Most wise, most holy, most almighty Spright! But all those follics now I do reprove,

Whose kingdom's throue no thoughts of earthly And turned have the tenor of my ftring,

wight The heavenly praises of true Love to sing. Can comprehend, much less my trembling verse

With equal words can hope it to reherse And ye that wont with greedy vain defire To read my fault, and, wondring at my flame, Yet; O most blessed Spirit! pure lamp of light, To warm your selves at my wide sparkling fire, Eternal spring of grace and wisdom true, Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame, Vouchtafe to shed into my barren sprighe And in her ashes shrowd my dying shame; Some little drop of thy celeftial dew, For who my passed sollies now pursues,

That may my rimes with sweet infuse embrew, Bcgips his own, and my old fault renews.

And give me words equal unto my thought,

To teil the marveils by thy mercy wrought. Before this world's great frame, in which all things Are now contain'd, found any being-place, Yet being pregnant still with powreful grace, Ire fiteing Time could wag his eyas wings

And full of froitful Love, that loves to get About that mighty bound which doch embrace Things like himself, and to enlarge his race, The rolling sphere, and parts their howers by His fecond brood, though not of powse io great, space,

Yet full of beauty, next he did beget, That high eternal Powre, which now doth move

An infinite ir.crease of angels bright, In all these things, mov'd in it self by love. All glittring glorious in their Maker's light.

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