SONG I.
[Thou Glorious Envy, of the Nation]
1
Thou
Glorious Envy, of the Nation,
Whose renowned Graces,
Far transcend the Fancies,
Of a Lovers Brain.
Whose blooming Cheeks out-vy Carnation,
While thy Look surpasses,
Those resplendent Glances,
A High-noon do raigne.
Thy Curious Locks, so nicely curl'd;
Their Every Hair,
Our Souls ensnare.
And by a sweet Surprisal,
Captive all the World.
The Melting Corals of thy Lips,
Distill such Balme,
That in the quame.
Of a Heart breaking Mistriss,
He revives that Sipps.
2
Thy Graceful Motion, and Behaviour,
Might excuse a Beauty,
Less in debt to Nature,
Then thy fayrer Face.
Where Lovely Ayres, and Comely Favour
Do Conjure a Duty,
To Adore your Feature,
Dwells upon your Place.
The flowry sweets thy Breasts do wear,
Shall ne're consume,
Their rich perfume.
But make a lasting Summer,
Flourish all your Year.
Between whose Hills the Boy doth lye,
And exercise,
His Tyrannies.
Yet joyes us, that he doth his
Murthers handsomely.
3
He's blest who climbs that swelling Mountain,
In whose gloomy Valley,
Sits the Queen of Pleasure,
In her Royal Fort!
Bath'd, in the streams oth' Odorous Fountain,
Whence full joyes do sally,
In o're flowing Measure,
For the Amorous Sport.
Where circling in a Genial Kiss,
I would controule,
Disputes o'th' School:
And thence maintain a real,
Metempsychosis:
But nought can her Affection move,
Though Jove to boot,
Should Court her to't,
Florilla wanteth nothing,
To be Love but Love.
