The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sweet , let me enioy thy sight
More cleare, more bright then morning Sun,
Which in Spring-time giues delight
And by which Summers pride is wun.
Present sight doth pleasures moue
Which in sad absence we must misse:
But when met againe in loue,
Then twice redoubled is our blisse.

Yet this comfort absence giues,
And only faithfull louing tries,
That though parted, Loues force liues
As iust in heart, as in our eyes:

But such comfort banish quite,
Farre sweeter is it, still to finde
Fauour in thy loued sight,
Which present smiles with ioyes combind.

Eyes of gladnesse, lipps of Loue,
And hearts from passion not to turne,
But in sweet affections mooue,
In flames of Faith to liue, and burne.
Dearest then, this kindnesse giue,
And grant me life, which is your sight,
Wherein I more blessed liue,
Then graced with the Sunnes faire light.

2.

Sweet Siluia in a shady wood,
With her faire Nimphs layd downe,
Saw not farre off where Cupid stood,
The Monarch of Loues Crowne,
All naked, playing with his wings,
Within a Mirtle Tree,
Which sight a sudden laughter brings,
His Godhead so to see.

An fondly they began to iest,
With scoffing, and delight,
Not knowing he did breed vnrest,
And that his will's his right:
When he perceiuing of their scorne,
Grew in such desperate rage,
Who but for honour first was borne,
Could not his rage asswage.

Till shooting of his murth'ring dart,
Which not long lighting was,
Knowing the next way to the heart,
Did through a poore Nymph passe:
This shot the others made to bow,
Besides all those to blame,
Who scorners be, or not allow
Of powerfull Cupids name.

Take heede then nor doe idly smile,
Nor Loues commands despise,
For soone will he your strength beguile,
Although he want his eyes.

3.

Come merry Spring delight vs,
For Winter long did spight vs,
In pleasure still perseuer,
Thy beauties ending neuer:
Spring, and grow
Lasting so,
With ioyes increasing euer.

Let cold from hence be banish'd,
Till hopes from me be vanish'd,
But blesse thy daynties growing
In fulnesse freely flowing:
Sweet Birds sing
For the Spring,
All mirth is now bestowing.

Philomel in this Arbour
Makes now her louing Harbour,
Yet of her state complaining,
Her Notes in mildnesse strayning,
Which though sweet,
Yet doe meet.
Her former luckelesse paining.

4.

Louers learne to speake but truth,
Sweare not, and your oathes forgoe,
Giue your age a constant youth,
Vow no more then what you'le doe.

Thinke it sacriledge to breake
What you promise, shall in loue
And in teares what you doe speake
Forget not, when the ends you proue.

Doe not thinke it glory is
To entice, and then deceiue,
Your chiefe honors lye in this,
By worth what wonne is, not to leaue.

'Tis not for your fame to try,
What we weake, not oft refuse,
In our bounty our faults lye,
When you to doe a fault will chuse.

Fye leaue this, a greater gaine,
tis to keepe when you haue won,
Then what purchas'd is with paine,
Soone after in all scorne to shun.

For if worthlesse to be priz'd,
Why at first will you it moue?
And if worthy, why dispis'd?
You cannot sweare, and lie, and loue.

Loue alasse you cannot like,
Tis but for a fashion mou'd,
None can chuse, and then dislike,
Vnlesse it be by fashood prou'd.

But your choyce is, and your loue.
How most number to deceiue,
As if honors claime did moue
Like Popish Law, none safe to leaue.

Flye this folly, and returne
Vnto truth in Loue, and try,
None but Martir's happy burne,
More shamefull ends they haue that lye.