 | Poesis Rediviva |  |
On Flavia: A yellow hair'd Lady, E. W.
Come Eagles here your Eaglets try,
Where hair seems Sun-beams for the eye.
Was there but Persians here, each hair
Might call a Votary to his Prayer:
While every one emits a ray,
Brighter then those gild th' new born day.
Could age run back, and renew Greece,
They'd hither send for th' golden Fleece.
In honour of this golden hair,
Sure Spain the golden Fleece doth wear.
Though gone Hesperian Orchards be,
Your head preserves the golden Tree.
Should Goddesses but now contend,
A hair of it might th' quarrel end.
Who would not think her the most fair,
Who could deserve to have your hair?
Or is your head a hill of fire,
Since men feel Ætna in desire?
Or Cupid of thy hair makes darts,
Which being fire inflames all hearts?
Or the proud Boy will captives hold
In fetters which are made of gold.
Where hair seems Sun-beams for the eye.
Was there but Persians here, each hair
Might call a Votary to his Prayer:
While every one emits a ray,
Brighter then those gild th' new born day.
Could age run back, and renew Greece,
They'd hither send for th' golden Fleece.
In honour of this golden hair,
Sure Spain the golden Fleece doth wear.
76
Your head preserves the golden Tree.
Should Goddesses but now contend,
A hair of it might th' quarrel end.
Who would not think her the most fair,
Who could deserve to have your hair?
Or is your head a hill of fire,
Since men feel Ætna in desire?
Or Cupid of thy hair makes darts,
Which being fire inflames all hearts?
Or the proud Boy will captives hold
In fetters which are made of gold.
Nature presaging you would Empire have,
And rule o're hearts, this Crown of Gold you gave.
And rule o're hearts, this Crown of Gold you gave.
| Poesis Rediviva | |