The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton Edited by Charles B. Gullans |
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55. | 55. Vpon Platonick Love: To Mistress Cicely Crofts, Maide of Honor |
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The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton | ||
55. Vpon Platonick Love: To Mistress Cicely Crofts, Maide of Honor
O that I were all soule that I might prove
For you as fitt a love
As you are for an Angell, for I vow,
None but pure spiritts are fitt loves for you.
For you as fitt a love
As you are for an Angell, for I vow,
None but pure spiritts are fitt loves for you.
You'r all Etheri'all, there is in you noe dross
Nor any part that's gross,
Your coursest part is like the curious lawne
O're Vestall Relicts for a covering drawne.
Nor any part that's gross,
Your coursest part is like the curious lawne
O're Vestall Relicts for a covering drawne.
196
Your other part, part of the purest fire
That e're Heaven did inspire,
Makes every thought that is refined by it
A Quintessence of goodnes and of witt.
That e're Heaven did inspire,
Makes every thought that is refined by it
A Quintessence of goodnes and of witt.
Thus doe your raptures reach to that degree
In loves Phylosiphy
That you can figure to your selfe a fyre,
Void of all heate, a love without desire.
In loves Phylosiphy
That you can figure to your selfe a fyre,
Void of all heate, a love without desire.
Nor in divinity doe you goe less,
You thinke and yow profess
That soules may have a plenitude of joy,
Although there bodyes never meete t'Enjoy.
You thinke and yow profess
That soules may have a plenitude of joy,
Although there bodyes never meete t'Enjoy.
But I must needes confess I doe not finde
The motions of my minde
Soe purifyed as yet, but at there best
My body claims in them some interest.
The motions of my minde
Soe purifyed as yet, but at there best
My body claims in them some interest.
I hold a perfyt Ioy makes all our parts
As joyfull as our hearts,
My senses tell me if I please not them
My love is butt a dottage or a dreame.
As joyfull as our hearts,
My senses tell me if I please not them
My love is butt a dottage or a dreame.
How shall wee then agree? you may descend,
But will not to my end.
I faine would tune my fancy to your key,
But cannot reach to that abstracted way.
But will not to my end.
I faine would tune my fancy to your key,
But cannot reach to that abstracted way.
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There rests but this, that, while wee sojourne here,
Our Bodyes may draw nere,
And when our joyes they can noe more Extend,
Then lett our soules beginn where they did end.
Our Bodyes may draw nere,
And when our joyes they can noe more Extend,
Then lett our soules beginn where they did end.
The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton | ||