(6) Favonius, the milder breath o'th Spring
[I]
Fatonius
, the milder breath o'th Spring,
When proudly bearing on his softer wing,
Rich Odors, which from the Panchean Groves,
He steales, as by the Phenix pyre he moves,
Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispence
To the next Roses blushing innocence;
But from the grateful flower a richer sent
He back receives then he unto it lent.
II
Then laden with his odours richest store,
He to thy breath hasts, to which these are pore;
Which whil'st he sportively to steale essaies,
He like a wanton Lover 'bout thee plaies.
And sometimes coo ing thy soft cheek doth lie,
And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye;
Drawne in at last by that breath we implore,
He back returns, far sweeter then before.
The Close.
And rich by being rob'd,
In Thee he sinds,
The burning sweets of Pyres,
The cool of Winds.
