Amanda A Sacrifice To an Unknown Goddesse, or, A Free-Will Offering Of a loving Heart to a Sweet-Heart. By N. H. [i.e. Nicholas Hookes] |
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To Amanda after her Prayers.
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To Amanda after her Prayers.
What watrie still with reliques of a tear?
Oh prethie let me kisse them dry, my Dear.
Religious fountains which still delug'd stand,
Where Infant-Angels wade it hand in hand!
What still bedew'd? sure yet remaining there
Some of those pretty tankard-bearers are,
Thy late Attendant at thy sacrifice,
Yes, yes, I see those babies in thine eyes,
Those yellow-winged Fairies in thy well
Till thou shalt pray agen intend to dwell,
Earnest expectants for a tear to fall,
They make within thine eyes a water-gall.
Oh prethie let me kisse them dry, my Dear.
Religious fountains which still delug'd stand,
Where Infant-Angels wade it hand in hand!
What still bedew'd? sure yet remaining there
Some of those pretty tankard-bearers are,
Thy late Attendant at thy sacrifice,
Yes, yes, I see those babies in thine eyes,
Those yellow-winged Fairies in thy well
Till thou shalt pray agen intend to dwell,
Earnest expectants for a tear to fall,
They make within thine eyes a water-gall.
Amanda pray'd, I saw the Angels flie
To hear her lectures of Divinity,
And when my Fairest held up those hands of hers,
Thousands of sweet celestial Choristers
Danc't on each fingers end, delighting there
To fanne themselves in the perfumed aire
Of my Amanda's breath, swarm'd at her lip,
As Bees o're flowers, where they Nectar sip,
Then some did on her silver bosome rest,
Pruning their golden feathers in her breast,
And when my Dearest sang Te Deum out,
Th' Intelligences twirl'd the Orbes about,
But when she chanted her Magnificat,
The Angels then first learn't to imitate.
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And when my Fairest held up those hands of hers,
Thousands of sweet celestial Choristers
Danc't on each fingers end, delighting there
To fanne themselves in the perfumed aire
Of my Amanda's breath, swarm'd at her lip,
As Bees o're flowers, where they Nectar sip,
Then some did on her silver bosome rest,
Pruning their golden feathers in her breast,
And when my Dearest sang Te Deum out,
Th' Intelligences twirl'd the Orbes about,
But when she chanted her Magnificat,
The Angels then first learn't to imitate.
Yes, yes, thy prayer alwayes so pithie is;
So full of holy Zeale and emphasis,
So fraught with Hallelujahs it might be,
Heavens Laudamus, and mans Letanie,
Prethie, my Dearest, since with greatest Jove,
Thy prayers are so prevalent above:
I'm now thy subject, once thy Prince may be,
Pray for thy Prince, Amanda, pray for me.
So full of holy Zeale and emphasis,
So fraught with Hallelujahs it might be,
Heavens Laudamus, and mans Letanie,
Prethie, my Dearest, since with greatest Jove,
Thy prayers are so prevalent above:
I'm now thy subject, once thy Prince may be,
Pray for thy Prince, Amanda, pray for me.
| Amanda | |