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Love's Dialect

or; Poeticall Varieties; Digested Into a Miscelanie of various fancies. Composed by Tho. Iordan
 

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To his Mistrisse Philonella, being at her Looking-glasse.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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To his Mistrisse Philonella, being at her Looking-glasse.

My sweetest Philonella, turne away
From that Angelick figure, lest you pay
An adoration to your shade; your eye
May win an Hermit to Idolatrie.
Admit your soule be better guarded, know
I have still cause for doubt, lest some rash vow
(Made in an amrous extasie) should tye
Your selfe to your faire shade eternally,
Which heaven defend, when you bring this to passe.
Be kind you powers, translate me to her glasse,
That when the currall creatures come to give
Their daily tribute to me, I may live
The glory of a lover, and enjoy
More kisses then Adonis (Mirrhas boy)
Oh but some danger will pursue this blisse
Love is a feeding Feaver, and each kisse
Creats another appetite, Alas


I shall become your beauties burning glasse.
Sad lovers will relate, (should you expire)
Narcissus dyed by water, you by fire,
Both for one Amorous folly; yet (as he
Is now a Flower) could you a Phœnix be,
And I the sweete Arabian tree, so blest
With the rich treasure of your spicie nest;
Most willingly I should desire the blisse,
Of so divine a Metamorphosis.
Apollo sure would leave his Daphnean tree,
(With Lyrick Ayres) to keepe us company.
But these are fancies, leave your glasse, I vow,
You are to me a better Phœnix now.