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16
On the infrequency of Celias Letters.
Did not true love disdaine to owne
His spiritall duration
From paper-fuell, I might guesse
Thy love and writing both surcease
Together; But I cannot think
The life and Bloud of love is Ink;
Yet as when Phæbus leaves our coast
(The surface bound with chaines of frost)
Life is sustained by course repast,
Such as in Spring nauseates the tast,
So in my winter whilst you shine
In the remotest Tropick signe
Stramineous food paper and quill
May fodder hungry love untill
He reobtaine solstitiall hours
To feast upon thy beauties flowers.
His spiritall duration
From paper-fuell, I might guesse
Thy love and writing both surcease
Together; But I cannot think
The life and Bloud of love is Ink;
Yet as when Phæbus leaves our coast
(The surface bound with chaines of frost)
Life is sustained by course repast,
Such as in Spring nauseates the tast,
So in my winter whilst you shine
In the remotest Tropick signe
Stramineous food paper and quill
May fodder hungry love untill
He reobtaine solstitiall hours
To feast upon thy beauties flowers.
The wonders then of Nature we
Within our selves will justifie:
Or what monumentall boast
The first world made, the latter lost:
Thy pointed flame shall constant 'bide
As an eternall Pyramid;
The never-dying Lamp of Urnes
Revivid in my bosome burnes:
Th'attractive virtue of the North
Resembleth thy magnetick worth;
And from my scorcht heart through mine eyes
Ætnean flashes shall arise:
we shall make good when more unite
The fable of Hermaphrodite:
The Spring and Harvest of our blisse
The ripe and budding Orange is;
We little worlds shall thus rehearse
The wonders of the Universe
As a small watch keeps equall pace
With the vast Sun's impetuous race
Within our selves will justifie:
Or what monumentall boast
The first world made, the latter lost:
Thy pointed flame shall constant 'bide
As an eternall Pyramid;
The never-dying Lamp of Urnes
Revivid in my bosome burnes:
17
Resembleth thy magnetick worth;
And from my scorcht heart through mine eyes
Ætnean flashes shall arise:
we shall make good when more unite
The fable of Hermaphrodite:
The Spring and Harvest of our blisse
The ripe and budding Orange is;
We little worlds shall thus rehearse
The wonders of the Universe
As a small watch keeps equall pace
With the vast Sun's impetuous race
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