Loves Fruition.
Come come, thou glorious object of my sight
Come come, thou glorious object of my sight: O my Joy, my Life, my
only Delight! May this glad Minute be blest to Eternitie. See how the glim'ring Tapers of the Sky do
gaze and wonder at our Constancy: How they croud to behold what our Arms do unfold! How all do
envy our Felicities, and grudge the Triumph of Selindras Eyes! How Cynthia seeks to shroud her
Crescent in yon Cloud, where sad Night puts her sable Mantle on thy Light; mistaking hasteth to be
gone, her gloomy Shades give way as at th'approach of Day, and all the Planets shrink for fear to be ecclips'd
by a brighter Deitie. Look, O look, how the small Lights do fall and adore what before the
Heavens have not shown, nor their godhead known. Such a Faith, such a Love as may move Mighty
Jove from above to descend and remain amongst Mortals again.
