 | A Margarite of America |  |
[Not so much borrowed beautie hath the starres]
Not so much borrowed beautie hath the starres,
Not so much bright the mightie eie of day,
Not so much cleare hath Cinthia where she warres,
With deathes neere neece in her blacke array.
Not so much bright the mightie eie of day,
With deathes neere neece in her blacke array.
Not so true essence haue the sacred soules,
That from their naturall mansions are deuided,
Not so pure red hath Bacchus in his boules,
As hath that face whereby my soule is guided.
That from their naturall mansions are deuided,
Not so pure red hath Bacchus in his boules,
As hath that face whereby my soule is guided.
Not so could art or nature if they sought,
In curious workes themselues for to exceede,
Or second that which they at first had wrought,
Nor so could time, or all the gods proceede,
As to enlarge, mould, thinke, or match that frame,
As I do honour vnder Dians name.
In curious workes themselues for to exceede,
Or second that which they at first had wrought,
Nor so could time, or all the gods proceede,
As to enlarge, mould, thinke, or match that frame,
As I do honour vnder Dians name.
| A Margarite of America | |