 | The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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xix.
To his amorous Thoughts.
Sweet wanton thought which art of Beautye borne,
And which on Beautye feedst & sweet Desire,
Who like the Butterflye dost endlesse turne
About that flame that all so much admire;
That heauenlye face which doth outblush the Morne,
Those yuoryd hands, those Threeds of golden wyre,
Thou still surroundest, yet darst not aspire
To vew Mynds beautyes which the rest adorne.
Sure thou dost well that place not to come neare,
Nor see the maiestye of that faire court;
For if thow sawst the vertues ther resort,
The pure intelligence that moues that spheare,
Like soules departed to the Ioyes aboue,
Backe neuer wouldst thou come, nor thence remoue.
| The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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