 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
SONNET XLV.
[Sweet bewties rose in whose fayre purple leaues]
Sweet bewties rose in whose fayre purple leauesLoues Queene in richest ornament doth lye,
Whose graces were they not too sweet and hye
Might here be seen, but since their sight bereaues
All sences, he that endlesse bottome weaues
Which did Penelope, who that shall trye
Then wonder and in admiration dye
At nature-passing natures holy frame:
Her bewtie thee reuiues, thy muse vpheaues
To draw cœlestiall spirite from the skyes
To prayse the worke and worker whence it came:
This spirite drawne from heauen of thy fayre eyes
Whose guilded cognissance left in mine hart,
Shewes me thy faithfull seruant to my smart.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |