Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies By H. B. [i.e. Henry Bold] |
To his Superlative Mistris.
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Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies | ||
To his Superlative Mistris.
Another Epigram.
Compare the Bramble to the stately Pine;The fruitles Thistle to the vertuous Vine;
Compare the Charcole to the snow-white Down,
The wreath of Rushes to th'Imperial crown.
Compare the Raven to the turtle Dove,
The Moors of India to the queen of Love.
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The fogs of night, to Phœbus eye at noon.
Compare the Kite to sweet-breath'd Philomel,
The Lerman Lake to th'Helliconian Well,
If these admit comparison, then she
That can admit of no equalitie,
May find a parallel; but let some men
Rack their dul brains to praise their Mistris when
The utmost of their language they have spent
Let them sit down and sigh, and be content
Their Idols eyes to Sunbeams to compare,
Or by the rose her blased lips declare.
My Mistris must beyond their Saints, survive
In that unequald height, Superlative.
Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies | ||