Clarastella Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath |
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On Clarastella walking in her Garden.
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 | Clarastella |  |
On Clarastella walking in her Garden.
See how Flora smiles to see
This approaching Deitie!
Where each herb looks young and green
In presence of their comming Queen!
Ceres with all her fragrant store,
Could never boast so sweet a flow'r;
VVhile thus in triumph she doth go
The greater Goddess of the two.
This approaching Deitie!
Where each herb looks young and green
In presence of their comming Queen!
Ceres with all her fragrant store,
Could never boast so sweet a flow'r;
VVhile thus in triumph she doth go
The greater Goddess of the two.
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Here the Violet bows to greet
Her with homage to her feet;
There the Lilly pales with white
Got by her reflexed light;
Here a Rose in Crimson die
Blushes through her modestie;
There a Pansie hangs his head
'Bout to shrink into his bed,
'Cause so quickly she past by
Not returning suddenly;
Here the Currans red and white
In yon green bush at her sight
Peep through their shady leaves, and cry
Come eat me, as she passes by;
There a bed of Camomil,
VVhen she presseth it doth smel
More fragrant than the perfum'd East,
Or the Phœnix spicie nest;
Here the Pinks in rowes do throng
To guard her as she walks along,
There the flexive Turnsole bends
Guided by rhe raies shee sends
From her bright eies, as if thence
It suckt life by influence;
VVhilst She the prime and chiefest flow'r
In all the Garden by her pow'r
And onely life-inspiring breath
Like the warm Sun redeems from death
Their drooping heads, and bids them live
To tel us Shee their sweets did give.
Her with homage to her feet;
There the Lilly pales with white
Got by her reflexed light;
Here a Rose in Crimson die
Blushes through her modestie;
There a Pansie hangs his head
'Bout to shrink into his bed,
'Cause so quickly she past by
Not returning suddenly;
Here the Currans red and white
In yon green bush at her sight
Peep through their shady leaves, and cry
Come eat me, as she passes by;
There a bed of Camomil,
VVhen she presseth it doth smel
More fragrant than the perfum'd East,
Or the Phœnix spicie nest;
Here the Pinks in rowes do throng
To guard her as she walks along,
There the flexive Turnsole bends
Guided by rhe raies shee sends
From her bright eies, as if thence
It suckt life by influence;
VVhilst She the prime and chiefest flow'r
In all the Garden by her pow'r
And onely life-inspiring breath
Like the warm Sun redeems from death
Their drooping heads, and bids them live
To tel us Shee their sweets did give.
| Clarastella | |