 | The Workes of Benjamin Jonson |  |
An Elegie.
[By those bright Eyes, at whose immortall fires]
By those bright Eyes, at whose immortall firesLove lights his torches to inflame desires;
By that faire Stand, your forehead, whence he bends
His double Bow, and round his Arrowes sends;
By that tall Grove, your haire; whose globy rings
He flying curles, and crispeth, with his wings.
By those pure bathes your either cheeke discloses,
Where he doth steepe himselfe in Milke and Roses;
And lastly by your lips, the banke of kisses,
Where men at once may plant, and gather blisses:
Tell me (my lov'd Friend) doe you love or no?
So well as I may tell in verse, 'tis so?
You blush, but doe not: friends are either none,
(Though they may number bodyes) or but one.
I'le therefore aske no more, but bid you love;
And so that either may example prove
Unto the other; and live patternes, how
Others, in time may love, as we doe now.
Slip no occasion; As time stands not still,
I know no beautie, nor no youth that will.
To use the present, then, is not abuse,
You have a Husband is the just excuse
Of all that can be done him; Such a one
As would make shift, to make himselfe alone,
That which we can, who both in you, his Wife,
His Issue, and all Circumstance of life
As in his place, because he would not varie,
Is constant to be extraordinarie.
| The Workes of Benjamin Jonson | |