 | Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished |  |
11
To Amoret, The Sigh.
Nimble Sigh on thy warme wings,
Take this Message, and depart,
Tell Amoret, that smiles, and sings.
At what thy airie voyage brings,
That thou cam'st lately from my heart.
Take this Message, and depart,
Tell Amoret, that smiles, and sings.
At what thy airie voyage brings,
That thou cam'st lately from my heart.
Tell my lovely foe, that I
Have no more such spies to send,
But one or two that I intend
Some few minutes ere I dye,
To her white bosome to commend.
Have no more such spies to send,
But one or two that I intend
Some few minutes ere I dye,
To her white bosome to commend.
12
Then whisper by that holy Spring
Where for her sake I would have dyed,
Whilst those water Nymphs did bring
Flowers to cure what she had tryed;
And of my faith, and love did sing.
Where for her sake I would have dyed,
Whilst those water Nymphs did bring
Flowers to cure what she had tryed;
And of my faith, and love did sing.
That if my Amoret, if she
In after-times would have it read,
How her beauty murther'd mee,
With all my heart I will agree,
If shee'le but love me, being dead.
In after-times would have it read,
How her beauty murther'd mee,
With all my heart I will agree,
If shee'le but love me, being dead.
| Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished | |