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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On Amanda fallen asleep.
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37
On Amanda fallen asleep.
Sleep is a kinde of death, why may not I
Write my Deares Epitaph, her Elegie?
Here lies Amanda fast asleep,
Whom Cupid guards, and Angels keep;
Here lies the rarest prize
Two pearles within her eyes,
So have I seen a gem
A Princely diadem
Shut in a Cabinet,
A whole treasury
In a small box of ivorie,
Inlaid with bars and grates of jet.
For such Amanda's eye-lids are
White and fringed with black hair.
Write my Deares Epitaph, her Elegie?
Here lies Amanda fast asleep,
Whom Cupid guards, and Angels keep;
Here lies the rarest prize
Two pearles within her eyes,
So have I seen a gem
A Princely diadem
Shut in a Cabinet,
A whole treasury
In a small box of ivorie,
Inlaid with bars and grates of jet.
For such Amanda's eye-lids are
White and fringed with black hair.
Here lies Amanda dead asleep:
Hither lovers come and weep:
Here's a hand which doth out-goe
In whitenesse driven snow;
Upon that sweet bag cast your eye,
There on fine, fresh, green sattin see it lie,
With knots of scarlet ribbon by:
Thus interwoven have I seen
Virgius wax candles red and green,
Proud with a fine white twist between.
Hither lovers haste and see,
Her slender fingers circled be,
Like Rings enamel'd with the Galaxie;
Her locks as soft as sloven silke,
Through her Alpes do make their way,
And on her breasts which do out-vie
The icie rocks of frozen milk,
And th'lovely Swans soft downie thigh,
Her stately amorous curles
The saucie wantons play.
Whil'st two fierce Cupids on her niples sit,
To wound the hearts of stupid churles,
Who passe Amanda's tomb-stone by,
And with so much as half an eye,
Will not vouchsafe to look on it.
Hither lovers come and weep:
Here's a hand which doth out-goe
In whitenesse driven snow;
Upon that sweet bag cast your eye,
There on fine, fresh, green sattin see it lie,
With knots of scarlet ribbon by:
Thus interwoven have I seen
Virgius wax candles red and green,
Proud with a fine white twist between.
38
Her slender fingers circled be,
Like Rings enamel'd with the Galaxie;
Her locks as soft as sloven silke,
Through her Alpes do make their way,
And on her breasts which do out-vie
The icie rocks of frozen milk,
And th'lovely Swans soft downie thigh,
Her stately amorous curles
The saucie wantons play.
Whil'st two fierce Cupids on her niples sit,
To wound the hearts of stupid churles,
Who passe Amanda's tomb-stone by,
And with so much as half an eye,
Will not vouchsafe to look on it.
Here lies my Dear Amanda chaste and faire,
Don-Cupids charge and Angels care,
Here she lies, and yet not here,
For she's buried otherwhere.
She's pris'ner in my heart,
From whence she can no sooner part
Then dead men from the grave;
And yet she there doth move,
Not only in the ghost of love,
No, though a pris'ner, yet she's free,
Alas, too free for me,
She lives my bleeding heart t' enslave.
Don-Cupids charge and Angels care,
Here she lies, and yet not here,
For she's buried otherwhere.
She's pris'ner in my heart,
From whence she can no sooner part
Then dead men from the grave;
And yet she there doth move,
Not only in the ghost of love,
No, though a pris'ner, yet she's free,
Alas, too free for me,
She lives my bleeding heart t' enslave.
Here my sweetest sweet Amanda lies,
The best, the rarest of all rarities,
Shrouded she is from top to toe,
With lilies which all o're her grow,
In stead of bayes and rosemarie,
Roses in her cheeks there be,
Oh would I thy coffin were!
Amanda's living sepulchre!
Or would within that winding sheet
Our happy limbs might closely meet!
There would I chastly lie till th' day of doom,
And mingle dust till th' resurrection come;
But since as yet this cannot be,
For Heavens sake,
My Dearest, now awake,
For whil'st Amanda sleeps, she's dead to me.
39
Shrouded she is from top to toe,
With lilies which all o're her grow,
In stead of bayes and rosemarie,
Roses in her cheeks there be,
Oh would I thy coffin were!
Amanda's living sepulchre!
Or would within that winding sheet
Our happy limbs might closely meet!
There would I chastly lie till th' day of doom,
And mingle dust till th' resurrection come;
But since as yet this cannot be,
For Heavens sake,
My Dearest, now awake,
For whil'st Amanda sleeps, she's dead to me.
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