 | Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd |  |
In the Morning
A Flame.
From the deep sense of hope and fear,rais'd by the vigour of desire,
which of it selfe's all fire,
Blown by the issues of our grief,
who break their Pison for relief,
A flame is kindled in my breast,
pure, as the Vestals ere possest,
Whose mild heat receives welcome there.
The Sacrifice.
From the sweet hopes that doe ariseFrom a safe faith of joys to come
in loves Elizium;
From the chast incense of each Thought
Pil'd up, and into matter wrought,
And from that Sense seems to Divine
A glory to 't by being thine.
my heart's become a Sacrifice;
And if thou bee'st as just as fair,
Smother it not, but give it ayr.
| Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd | |