The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
 |
 |
The Author's second Dreame of FLOSTELLAS Morning-Walk.
|
 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
The Author's second Dreame of FLOSTELLAS Morning-Walk.
Twas Fresh-cheek'd May, with all her prideAnd Progress-bravery beautifi'd:
Her musk, perfumes, and Gems of price,
To take that sexe, more dainty, nice:
When th' Chaos-world (late sullen) now
Turn'd laughing all, stamp'd on whose brow
Fine new Creation: when froz'd Men
(Not snailes alone) seem'd Live agen.
Forth went the Nimphe, whose eyes fayr ray
Had January turnd to May,
And spruc't the poor-clad earth howere
With flow'rs, though Flora banish'd were:
Forth trip'd Fostel whilst I alone
Ingross'd that blessing, th' honour wonn
166
Sole Guardian to my souls delight:
Cal'd by her as if Heav'n had cal'd
To Joyes, wherein blest Saints instal'd
(Who would not glory?) Champion thence
To weake, yet purest Innocence.
For well FLOSTELLA knew that I
Would not hurt, but protecting dye;
And (though Temptations all, her shape)
Would punish, not commit a Rape.
Thus, though no morning-star am borne,
Yet was I usher to the Morn;
Did, next, her Sun-companion shew,
Whose hand inrich'd mine with its snow:
Naught envying now Great Turke, Mogor,
Tartarian China's Bugbeare, or
Black Southern Prince; thus scepter'd, I
Durst boast a fairer Monarchy.
Each Object, as we trac't below,
With rival-courtship seem'd to wooe
My Heavenly Fayr; and bred in me
A kind of sportive Jealousie:
Birds chant love songs, Gales whisper'd soft
Kind tales, stole kisses; whilst (me thought)
Hearbs, Flowres hung their love-sick heads
Or bow'd with reverence from their beds,
Hils animated seemd, rejoyce,
And (wanton) Eccho'd back her Voyce:
O pregnant Soule! say, what does prove
So all-breeding as that Womb of Love?
Here, whilst I sacrific'd such Vowes,
Sighs Incense as Love's zeal allowes
Her hand, Breast, th' Alters made to tl.' eare
Thus breath'd Flostel, O, breath'd sounds were
Seraphick Musick! (words? be gone
That poor Terme) Thus shee seem'd to own
Hold Fondling, don't expose abroad
Such sweetnesse to th' Ayres common Road;
Be wise; th' Harmonious touch oth' Sphears
Not Musick is for Vulgar eares:
Repeate the Blisses to thine owne;
Tell Venus, or Loves selfe alone:
And feed you lickerish eares (reviv'd
Your deare Joyes) Fancy makes new liv'd;
167
Th' Houre, Minute, in's chast Loves Record.
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |