Flamma sine Fumo or, poems without fictions. Hereunto are annexed the Causes, Symptoms, or Signes of several Diseases with their Cures, and also the diversity of Urines, with their Causes in Poetical measure. By R. W. [i.e. Rowland Watkyns] |
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 | Flamma sine Fumo |  |
The Holy Maid
Dum fugio homines, invenio angelos; & nunquam minùs sola quàm cùm sola.
I am resolv'd, no fond desire
Shall kindle in me Cupids fire:
No amorous toyes, no wanton kiss
Shall rob me of eternal bliss,
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To drive vain thoughts of Love away.
A silent Cloyster, which is free
From change and chance, best pleaseth me:
When I do not converse with men,
I speak with God, and Angels then.
I will not wear a rich attire
Of gold or silk, to set on fire
Beholders eyes: The care I find,
Most needful, is to dress my mind.
No cunning Lover shall beguile,
Or win me with a gift, or smile:
I will accept no pretty thing,
As Ribans, Gloves, a Watch, or Ring.
Weak man's estate, as in a glass,
Is truly seen in fading grass:
The choisest Man, the fairest Rose,
Will languish, and perfection lose.
And yet I am in love: but where?
My love ascends a higher sphere;
Where honor, beauty, pleasures be
Inthron'd, and full of constancie.
My Beloved's white and ruddy,
My red sins made him all bloody:
His head is like fine gold, most free
From dross, and all impurity:
His gracious eyes are like Doves eyes;
And in his cheeks composed lies
A bed of spices and flowers sweet,
Where all perfumes together meet:
His mouth breathes roses; and no bliss
Can equal his delicious kiss.
But see, where my Beloved lies,
And courts me with his dying eyes:
He spreads his arms me to embrace;
Who would not love so sweet a face?
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To ransom my poor soul from thrall:
The Cross my pillow, and my bed
Shall be his Grave to rest my head.
All sweets are sour, all fair perfections foul,
Compar'd with Christ, the Bridegroom of my soul.
| Flamma sine Fumo | |