 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
To the Spheares. Sonet. 23.
Thou which do'st guide this little world of love,Thy planets mansions heere thou mayst behold,
My brow the spheare where Saturne still doth move,
Wrinkled with cares: and withered, dry, and cold;
Mine eyes the Orbe where Jupiter doth trace,
Which gently smile because they looke on thee,
Mars in my swarty visage takes his place,
Made leane with love, where furious conflicts bee.
Sol in my breast with his hote scorching flame,
And in my hart alone doth Venus raigne:
Mercury my hands the Organs of thy fame,
And Luna glides in my fantastick braine;
The starry heaven thy prayse by me exprest,
Thou the first moover, guiding all the rest.
| The Works of Michael Drayton | |