Pocula Castalia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Let age-dry'd Æson Sacrifice
To Sol, and he whose weather-wise
Autumnine joynts at evry blast
Of Boreas keener Breath are cast
Into a Palsie, and do find
As much adoe to stand i'th' wind
And frost, as the thatcht shud, which he
Erected in's Minority.
And let Amyntas, and the Swaine
Whose Soule is corn, and Hope the gain
That the kindly-ripning Springs
And Golden-headed Harvest brings,
Evry Yeer
An Altar rear
To the gay Planet of the East,
And with a fatted Horse him feast.

2

Think not (Loves tell-tale foe) to see
These Superstitious rites from me,
For I acknowledge unto you
No Orgies or Allegiance due.
Tis not thy Atom-thronged Beam
Creates the Day in my esteem,
But bright Eliza's eyes which are
Than thee more radiant by far.
Compar'd with them, thou seem'st to me
Like Bristow stones compar'd with thee.
Nor is't thy abscence (flaming stone)
That makes my christall day-light gone,
But when dear she
Frownes upon me,
And shuts her eyes, Oh, then am I
Involv'd in Tenebrosity.

3

I owe not to thy sparkling Ray
The benefit of Night or Day,
Did she ever smile, thy light would be
Just as uselesse unto me
As is thy bicorn'd Sister Moon,
When sometimes she peeps out at Noon.
When my Saint shuts those heavenly lids
Whose wink each daring thought forbids
I hate to see thy glaring Light
And love my melancholy Night.
I wish thy race were shorter yet;
For when my Souls fair Sun be set

My heape of clay
Needeth no Day.
Besides, thou want'st enough of Light
To make it day when she makes Night.
So smiles or frownes she me upon
I either slight, or wish thee gon.

4

Nor owe I unto thee, but Her
All the foure Seasons of the yeer.
When Hyems hath benum'd the World
And such a cold about it hurld
As thou thy selfe hadst need to shine
Wrapt in an Irish Gausopine,
If I obtaine a Glance of Her
Or if her Name but strikes mine eare,
I am with a strange heat possest,
A Lightning's darted through my Breast,
And in my glowing Soul Desire
Hath kindled such a Vestall fire
As Trent and Thames
With all their streames
Shall ne'r quench; but for aye shall burne,
And warm mine ashes in mine Urne.

5

When thy fierce heat (Olympick coal)
Hath crack'd and thaw'd the Icye Pole,
And thou hast wrought thy toylsom track
Up to the lofty Lyons back.
And thereon rid'st environed
With beames ejected from thine Head,

That rive the ground, and singe the Grasse
And tan the jolly Shepherdesse.
The Oxe now grazes not, but lies
Tormented by the stinging Flies,
Or runs to find a cooler Bower,
I'l slight thy Tyrannizing Power,
I'l not in (vain)
Wish frost againe,
But shroud me from that flame of thine
In her sweet Grove of Eglantine.

6

Neither canst thou (for all thy heat)
Two Seasons at one time create,
But all succeed by turns. In her
All fower at one Time appeare.
The Spring perfum'd with fragrancy
I'th' Violets of her veines I spie;
To evidence tis Summer Time
Her Lips bear Cherries in their prime;
Wish I Autum? Lo, all the Year
On her Cheek hangs a Katherine Pear;
And Apples on her Breast be set
By Nature fairer far than that
Which tempted Eve
T'eat without leave.
If I desire a Winters Day
Warm Snow upon her hands doth lay.
But Ah! (which most I grieve to tell)
He also in her Heart doth dwell.