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28. To the most worshipfull and worthy Knight, Sir Iames Hay, Gentleman of his Maiesties Bedchamber
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28. To the most worshipfull and worthy Knight, Sir Iames Hay, Gentleman of his Maiesties Bedchamber

When Ianus keys vnlocks the gates aboue,
And throwes more age on our sublunar lands,
I sacrifice with flames of feruent loue
These hecatombs of kisses to thy hands:
Their worth is small, but thy deserts are such,
They'l passe in worth, if once thy shrine they tuch.
Laugh but on them, and then they will compare
With all the haruest of th'Arabian fields,
With all the pride of that perfumed aire
Which winged troupes of musked Zephirs yeelds,
When with their breath th'embalme the'Elisian plaine,
And makes the floures reflect those sents againe:
Yea they will be more sweet in their conceat
Then Venus kisses spent on Adons wounds;
Then those wherewith pale Cynthia did entreat
The louely Shepheard of the Latmian bounds;
And more then those which Ioues Ambrosian mouth
Prodigaliz'd vpon the Troian youth.
I know they can not such acceptance finde,
If rigor censure their vncourtly frame,
But thou art courteous, and wilt call to minde
Th'excuse which shields both me and them from blame,
My Muse was but a Nouice into this
And being Virgin scarse well taught to kisse.
Your most addicted Robert Ayton.