 | Poems |  |
178
On sight of a Gentlewomans face in the water.
Stand still you floods doe not deface,
That Image which you beare:
So Votaries from every place,
To you shall Alters reare.
That Image which you beare:
So Votaries from every place,
To you shall Alters reare.
No winds but Lovers sighs blow here,
To trouble these glad streames,
On which no starre from any Spheare,
Did ever dart such beames.
To trouble these glad streames,
On which no starre from any Spheare,
Did ever dart such beames.
To Christall then in hast congeale,
Least you should loose your blisse:
And to my cruell faire reveale,
How cold, how hard she is.
Least you should loose your blisse:
And to my cruell faire reveale,
How cold, how hard she is.
But if the envious Nymphes shall feare,
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
And hire the ruder winds to teare,
That face which you adorn'd.
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
And hire the ruder winds to teare,
That face which you adorn'd.
179
Then rage and foame amaine that we,
Their malice may despise:
When from your froath we soone shall see,
A second Venus rise.
Their malice may despise:
When from your froath we soone shall see,
A second Venus rise.
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