The poetical works of William Strode ... Now first collected from manuscript and printed sources: to which is added: The floating island a tragi-comedy: Now first reprinted from the original edition of 1655: Edited by Bertram Dobell with a memoir of the author |
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UPON HEAVENS BEST IMAGE, HIS FAIRE AND VERTUOUS MISTRESSE, M.S. |
 | The poetical works of William Strode |  |
UPON HEAVENS BEST IMAGE, HIS FAIRE AND VERTUOUS MISTRESSE, M.S.
The most insulting tyrants can but be
Lords of our bodies; still our minds are free.
My Mistress thralls my soul, those chains of gold,
Her locks, my very thoughts infettered hold.
Then sure she is a Goddesse, and if I
Should worship her 'tis no Idolatry.
Lords of our bodies; still our minds are free.
My Mistress thralls my soul, those chains of gold,
Her locks, my very thoughts infettered hold.
Then sure she is a Goddesse, and if I
Should worship her 'tis no Idolatry.
Within her cheeks a fragrant garden lies
Where Roses mixt with Lillies feast mine eyes:
Here's alwayes spring, no winter to annoy
Those heavenly flowers, onely some tears of joy
Doe water them, and sure, if I be wise,
This garden is another Paradice.
Where Roses mixt with Lillies feast mine eyes:
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Those heavenly flowers, onely some tears of joy
Doe water them, and sure, if I be wise,
This garden is another Paradice.
Her eyes two heavenly lamps, whose ordered motion
Swayes all my senses, reason, and devotion;
And yet those beams did then most glorious shine
When passions dark had mask'd this soul of mine:
Now if the night her glory best declare,
What can I deem them but a starry paire.
Swayes all my senses, reason, and devotion;
And yet those beams did then most glorious shine
When passions dark had mask'd this soul of mine:
Now if the night her glory best declare,
What can I deem them but a starry paire.
Her brow is vertues court, where she alone
Triumphants sits in faultlesse beauties throne:
Did you but mark its purenesse you would swear
Diana's come from Heaven to sojourne there:
Onely this Cynthia dims not even at noon,
There wants a man (methinks) in such a Moone.
Triumphants sits in faultlesse beauties throne:
Did you but mark its purenesse you would swear
Diana's come from Heaven to sojourne there:
Onely this Cynthia dims not even at noon,
There wants a man (methinks) in such a Moone.
Her breath is great Jove's incense, sweeter far
Then all Arabian winds & spices are;
Her voice the sphear's best musick, & those twins
Her armes, a precious paire of Cherubs wings.
In briefe she is a map of Heaven, & there
O would that I a constellation were.
Then all Arabian winds & spices are;
Her voice the sphear's best musick, & those twins
Her armes, a precious paire of Cherubs wings.
In briefe she is a map of Heaven, & there
O would that I a constellation were.
| The poetical works of William Strode | |