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The History of Polindor and Flostella

With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged

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When strait into her dearest bosome hurl'd,
With strictest Folds, with warm but eager Kisses
He new endanger'd her; 'midst which Love-blisses
Both seem'd awhile Intranc'd, their mutuall kind.
Souls whispring thus sad Tales (as 'twere) intwin'd,
Moaning each other. How through dismall fear,
Spent Spirits (loathsome Rape and Death so neer)
That Swoonding seiz'd, one gasping Roague confest;
Ore-heard by glad Polindor: There did rest
Th' whole Booty, prize, with hundred pounds beside
Oth' Theeves in gold (that lately was Blood-dy'd)
Rang'd by Rufin; who both with voyce awaking,
Polindor (lo) first silence breaks, Love making
His Joyes thus sweetly'st known. And, O you Skies,
You Pow'rs of lasting Daylight, do these eyes
Behold sent back my dearest Dear (as 'twere)
From shades of Death? from your own blisfull Sphear
Rather, where meant some Star-bestudded Throne:
Blest Flight, return! These also th' Honour done
(These Hands) to bleed some purple for her sake!
Some drops! thereby redeeming her from Wrack,

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From double Death of Ravishment and slaughter
(As she twice reskew'd me) th' unequall'd Daughter
Of all your glory, praise! O mercy ador'd!