The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
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Beauty.
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 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
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Beauty.
How gallant'st Beauty to the sight,
Of Wonders mystick rare Compound!
Fram'd for Amazement, as delight,
Heav'ns sweetest Map, Prospective found!
And th' earthly Globe's Epitome being crownd:
Th' whole Worlds contraction!
Though rarer far this Excellence,
Life sparkling thence,
All heightned still through Looks, Words, gracefull Action.
Of Wonders mystick rare Compound!
Fram'd for Amazement, as delight,
Heav'ns sweetest Map, Prospective found!
And th' earthly Globe's Epitome being crownd:
Th' whole Worlds contraction!
Though rarer far this Excellence,
Life sparkling thence,
All heightned still through Looks, Words, gracefull Action.
What lovely'st Radiance in the Eye,
Souls splendid Orb! what Visions there
Of Beauties, Virtues, speakingly
Both shine and move! what Springs appear
In dainty'st Cheeks, delicious Beds (as twere)
Of Heav'n-born Flowers!
Heav'n planted Fruits, both Pearls and Gem
Lips boast in them:
Prime-modell'd sweets; great LOVE'S Imperiall Bowers
Souls splendid Orb! what Visions there
Of Beauties, Virtues, speakingly
Both shine and move! what Springs appear
In dainty'st Cheeks, delicious Beds (as twere)
Of Heav'n-born Flowers!
Heav'n planted Fruits, both Pearls and Gem
Lips boast in them:
Prime-modell'd sweets; great LOVE'S Imperiall Bowers
'Las that should prove this Quintescense
Of Worth, like meanest Creatures, frail!
Such vaunts the Rose her self to sence,
(Proud, fragrant Garden-Queen) though pale
Drooping ere long, turn'd Coars our eyes bewail:
So I've observed
That choyce-stain'd Tulip, Gillyflow'r
Fresh-cheek'd this hour;
Fruits lovely, sweet, ere long grown old, Death-starved.
Of Worth, like meanest Creatures, frail!
Such vaunts the Rose her self to sence,
(Proud, fragrant Garden-Queen) though pale
Drooping ere long, turn'd Coars our eyes bewail:
So I've observed
That choyce-stain'd Tulip, Gillyflow'r
Fresh-cheek'd this hour;
Fruits lovely, sweet, ere long grown old, Death-starved.
All things are Changing, fading here,
Minds, Bodies prove their sinking Fate,
Like those young Seasons of the Year;
That Beauties wither'd, gone, which late
Florish'd ador'd, Slaves waiting on her State;
Now pitty'd, scorned:
Bright Virtue, Wisdome though should lend
Lustre to th' end,
Chang'd Cheeks through those, like Sunshine-beams adorned
Minds, Bodies prove their sinking Fate,
Like those young Seasons of the Year;
That Beauties wither'd, gone, which late
Florish'd ador'd, Slaves waiting on her State;
Now pitty'd, scorned:
Bright Virtue, Wisdome though should lend
Lustre to th' end,
Chang'd Cheeks through those, like Sunshine-beams adorned
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |