The poems and translations of Sir Edward Sherburne (1616-1702) ::

Where cleer Pactolus glides through Phrygian Lands
Tween Banks of Emeralds, on golden Sands,
And in his Course does Lydia's Confines trace
With humid feet, and with a slippery pace,
The Bed-rid Earth, to ease her self (opprest
With her own weight, and crampt with her long Rest)
Her vaster Limbs first stretches to a Plain,
Then to a Mountain lifts her head again;
A Mountain; such for height, as if 'midst those
Which to scale Heaven by the bold Giants chose
(Pelion, Olympus, Ossa,) plac'd it were,
Would like a Cedar 'mongst low shrubs appear.
So far above the Clouds his head doth rise
That his green Locks no Summer dripping spies
With Rain, his face no Winter does behold
Mask'd with a snowy Muffler 'gainst the cold.
The proud Usurper seems as if he meant,
Scorning his low and baser Element,
To make the Airy Region his own,
And plant for Juno an Imperiall Throne.
Or like some new Briareus he stands
Arm'd with more large-spred Oaks than he with hands,
And menaces the Stars; his Sides and Back,
Woods which ne'r shade, fields which ne'r verdure lack,
With a green Mantle cloath, whose fringed Base
A hundred Brooks with Streams of Silver Lace.
At foot of this tall Rock, a Cave disclos'd
It self; a Cave, shady and dark; suppos'd
The sole design of Nature, as th'Effect,
Where She both Workman plaid, and Architect.
Over whose gaping Mouth, her hand had hewn
Out of the living Rock a Lip of Stone
Cut like a bending Arch; whence for more grace
(As 'twere the native Porter of the Place)
Green Ivy wreath'd in many a subtile knot

Hung dangling: Fore the entry of the Grot
With streams of liquid Pearl, (the humid Son
Of some large Torrent) a small Brook does run,
Which on the Pibbles as it purling plaies,
Does so harmonious a murmur raise,
Tun'd to so just a Pitch, as dares defie
The Birds sweet Noats, and with the Lute may vie.

I'th'midd'st of this vast Cave, (which seems to prop
With it's arch'd back th'whole Mountain) tow'rd the top
Opens a spacious Vent; through which, it's flight,
The damp Air takes, Entrance, the Suns warm light.
The rude Walls Ivy, creeping round about,
With a green Suit of Tapp'stry hangs throughout.
The Goddess which in Heavens third Orb does shine
Did to these shades her amorous thefts confine.
Here her delights secur'd; whose Passions prove
Her more the Servant, than the Queen of Love.
Here Mars to war oft taught she in Loves field
With other weapons than with Spear and Shield;
Whil'st 'bout his Sinewy Neck her Arms she wound,
And his rough Limbs in those soft Fetters bound.
Here once three naked Goddesses ('tis said)
With censuring Eyes the Phrygian Swain survayd;
Whose judgement in that memorable strife
Gain'd him the beautious Hellen for his Wife,
And gave to lovely Venus uncontroll'd
The Prize of Beauty, and the fruit of Gold.
And here at last the winged Son of Jove
And Maija, sported with the Queen of Love;
Who, in these shades (if Fame have Truth reveal'd)
And her soft Bosome, long time lay conceal'd.

Mean while great Jove, wondering at his neglect,
(Who of some Message did return expect)
Thus with himself discours'd 'bout his long stay:
Sure he lies lurking for some hop'd-for Prey,
Or his light Wings, (doubtless h'had else return'd:)
He in the Sea hath wet, or fire hath burn'd.
True, Jove; he lurking lay, but in the shade
Of Venus Arms; whil'st on her Lips he preyd.
His Pinions he had sing'd; but with Loves Torch,
Which not so much his Plumes as heart did scorch;
Drench'd too he had, and wet his lighter Wing,
Not in the Seas salt Waves, but Loves sweet spring.

And now seaven times the Sun with quickning Ray
Had lighted in the East the Lamp of day;
As oft the humid Night had wrapt the Skies
In her black Mantle, wrought with Stars like Eyes:
And yet no Day goes by, no Night e'r passes,
But sees these Lovers link'd in close Embraces.
But from those Arms (where long a Pris'ner held)
The loyt'ring God now to return compell'd,
Unwillingly their dear Embrace declind:
Yet left a growing Pledge of Love behind.

Nine times already had the Moon (constrain'd
By Course) her Orb into a Crescent wain'd;
As oft, (her horns spred to a round) had run
With Light that seem'd to emulate the Sun;
When a sweet Boy (so geniall Stars dispos'd)
Fair Cytheræa's pregnant VVomb disclos'd.
In their warm Laps new born the Graces laid him,
And with their softer Arms a Cradle made him.
Beauty first suckled him at her white Breast
And her Idea in his Looks imprest.
About him did like little Anticks play,
Laughter, and mirth, and smil'd his Cries away.
No noise, but light breath'd from his Lips of Roses,
Such as the Sky no Thunder heard discloses,
Nor like to other Childrens, seem'd his Eyes
Two springs of Tears, but like two Suns to rise:
VVhence all presag'd that they in time should prove
No less the Food than the sweet fire of Love.

His Beauty with his years did still increase;
VVhil'st his fair Mother, longing to impress
The Image of her self in his lov'd face,
Did every day add some Celestiall Grace.

Now grown a Youth, behold him, with the Darts
Of his bright Eyes, subduing Female Hearts:
The living Picture of his Parents; where
Their mixed Beauties seem t'have equall share.
From Father both and Mother Name he took,
From Father both and Mother his sweet Look.
All the feign'd Beauties of the VVorld, seem'd met
In him as in their living Counterfeit,
VVhere Nature (like Apelles) the best Graces
(To add to his,) cull'd from a Thousand Faces.

Upon his Ivory Front you might behold

His curled Tresses flow like VVaves of Gold,
And as enamoured on his Lovely Face,
That with their soft and twining Arms embrace.
Then like loose VVantons 'bout his Neck to twist,
Glad that they might by its warm snow be kist.
View his fair Front, and thou'lt say that displays
A clear Horizon deckt with Morning Rayes;
And as we see beneath the dawning Gleams
O'th'Morn, the Sun shoot forth his brighter Beams;
So here might you perceive alike to rise
In's Front the Morn, the Sun in his bright Eyes.
His melting Lips, Speeches Vermilion Gate,
Soft Seat of smiles, blushes so sweet dilate,
As seem at once to ravish the pleas'd sight,
And to a Kiss the longing touch invite;
Through which a fragrant Zephyrus transpires,
That Fans and kindles both Loves flagrant Fires.
Nor can one tell (no grace in either missing)
VVhich best becomes them, speaking, smiling, kissing.
Look on his tender Cheek, and there thou'lt spy
The Rose as in a Throne of Majesty,
'Midd'st a white Guard of Lillies, proudly grow;
Or blushing Pinks set in a Bank of Snow:
His Habit, and his Looks did both express
A kind of sweet becomming carelessness.
VVhom all so much more Beautifull esteem
By how much he less beautifull would seem.
VVhil'st thus he manifests in every Part,
What Art there is in Beauty void of Art.

One Day by Chance 'twixt him and Cupid grew
This æmulous Contest; which of them Two
(Since he in Beauty so surpast the other)
The God of Love should be! he, or his Brother?
When Venus Arbitress of the Debate
On a Sublime Tribunal thron'd in State,
(Fixing upon the Lovely youth her Eyes)
Thus spake: My Deer, this Doom 'twixt you denies
All further strife; a Bow Cupid and thou
Shalt bear; he at his side, thou in thy Brow.
The same your Weapons; Love's inflaming Brand
Thou in thy Looks shalt bear, he in his hand:
Both too shall shoot at and wound humane Hearts,
Thou with thine Eyes (sweet Boy) he with his Darts.

This lovely Youth, with divine graces crown'd,
As yet three Lustres scarce had seen go round,
When in his Mind a Resolution grew
Of bidding Phrygia, and the Cave adue.
Desire of knowledge, and the Love of Fame,
For Travell his aspiring thoughts inflame.
How oft he wish'd his Fathers Wings? that so
He might each clime the Sun enlightens know:
And view what e'r the Earths vast Bosome holds,
Or in its watry Arms the Sea infolds.

The Lycian Realms he view'd; and there survay'd
The Hill, within whose dark, and dreadfull shade
The triple-shap'd Chimæra once did dwell
That animated Ætna, living Hell,
Which from three sooty Jaws, us'd to expire
A sulph'ry Deluge, and belch Floods of fire.
To Caria next his Course he bends; where he
Through that well-peopled Land doth wondring see
The numerous Villages like shrubs to rise,
The Cities towre like Cedars to the Skies;
Whose fertile Borders with its winding waves
Tow'rd the cold North the fam'd Meander laves;
Which (like a Traveller on some strange Coast,
Having his first Path, his Directress, lost,
VVith devious steps, now in, now out doth wind,
Flies what he seeks, and meets what he declin'd,
Lost in the Errour of ambiguous waies)
Its self imprisons in a watry Maze.
At length he to that fatall Place arriv'd
VVhere envious Love his sad Revenge contriv'd.

So pleasant and delightful was the Place,
That Heavens great Eye in its Diurnall Race
Yet ne'r beheld another like unto't,
Of all 'twixt Ganges head, and Calpe's foot.

There to a round which a fair Prospect lends,
Its flowry surface a large Plain extends;
A hundred little Brooks its Bosome trace,
And with their streams of Quicksilver enchace;
VVhich with sweet vernall Dews supply'd, still yeeld
Life to the Flowers, and Verdure to the Field;
That may, with odorous Jewels thus aray'd,
A heaven of flowers, or field of stars be said.
And what more Pleasure adds; this pleasant Ground,

Tall Trees, as with a leavy wall surround,
And 'bout it seem like a green-work to run
As if to sconce it 'gainst the scorching Sun.
And as sometimes the Airs soft breath we find,
Crisps the smooth Sea; so here a gentle wind,
(VVhose softer wing the Flowers does lightly brush)
Curles into trembling waves the fields green Plush.

I'th'midd'st of this fair Plain, the tumid Earth,
(As if impregnate with a fruitfull Birth)
Swels gently up into an easie Hill:
VVhere crown'd with sweets the spring sits smiling still.
And, as from thence she sheds her balmy showres,
The ground with grasse enamels, that with flowers.
VVhose pregnant VVomb a Chrystall issue teems;
VVhich as it glides along with purling streams,
(That settle in a verdant Vale;) does make
Of a small Rivolet, an ample Lake;
In which no Weeds their muddy dwelling have
To stain the native cleerness of the Wave.
But as the Sun pure Christal by its light
Transpierces; so the penetrating sight
May through the Water here, the bottom spy,
Checkerd with Pibbles of a various dye:
And see how the Mute People of the Floud,
With Ebon Backs, and Silver Bellies scudd.
The Flowers which on its fertile Borders grow,
As if in Love with their own Beauties shew:
Bending their fragrant Tops, and slender Stems
Narcissus-like, to gaze on the clear Streams.
Where limb'd in Water Colours to the Life
They see themselves; and raise a pleasing strife
In the deluded Sense at the first View
To judge which Flowers are Counterfeit, which true.

On the left hand of this transparent Floud,
Fringing the Plaines green Verge, there stands a Wood
Where Lovers Myrtles, and the Poets Bays,
Their spreading Tops to native Arbors raise:
From whose tall Crowns like a black Vaile the shade
Falling, the Lakes cleer Bosome does invade.
So thick the Trees are they exclude Heavens sight,
And make a leavy Skreen 'gainst the Suns Light.
Whose close-weav'd Branches a new Heaven present
And to the Sight form a green Firmament:

In which like fixed Stars one might espie
Gold-colour'd Apples glitter to the Eye.
Which though no Motion Circular they run,
Want not yet that of Trepidation.
No vulgar birds there make their mean Abodes,
But winged Heroes, Musicks Demy Gods,
Whose Plumes like Gems, with various Colours shine,
Their Beaks of Orient Hew, their Notes Divine:
Whilest this sweet Place seems a retired Cell,
Where Love and Flora with the Muses dwell.

VVithin these dark, yet pleasant Coverts bred,
Close by the Lake, a Nymph inhabited:
A Nymph; her Breast more snowy, Looks more fair,
Her Eyes more Diamonds, and more Gold her Hair,
Than ever Nymph could boast that hath been seen
To haunt the VVoods, or press the flowry Green.
The Chace she lov'd not, nor with Hound or Spear
VVould charge the tusked Bore, or savage Bear.
Nor at a Mark or Quarry Bow would bend:
Nor in a Race with other Nymphs contend.
To her the Naiades would often say,
Fair Salmacis, fair Cynthia's Laws obey:
Her sports pursue; and in thy hand a Spear,
Or at thy side a painted Quiver bear.
But she who other Pleasures had in Chace,
As the proud Mistris of so proud a Place,
Disdains to set a Foot beyond the Bounds
Of those lov'd shades, or tread on meaner grounds.

There with its liquid streams the neighbouring Lake
A Luke-warm Bath for her fair Limbs did make.
The Neighbouring Lake; which oft it self discovers,
Swell'd by the Tears of her forsaken Lovers.
In whose unflattering Mirrour, every Morn,
She Counsell takes how best her self t'adorn.
There she sometimes her looser Curles unwinds,
Now up again in Golden Fillets binds,
Which makes (which way soever them she wears)
For amorous hearts a thousand catching Snares.
A Robe, like that of Day, now wears she, white,
Now one of Azure, starr'd like that of Night.
Now curious Sandals on her feet doth slip,
In Gems, and Gold lesse rich, than Workmanship.
Now in a carelesse Dress she goes; her Hair

Spred 'bout her shoulders, and her Ankles bare.
And gathering Flowers, not all alike doth pick,
But such alone doth in her Bosome stick,
Whose leaves, or Milk, or Scarlet, does invest,
To suit in Colour with her Lip and Brest.
And if a Flower she pull, strait from its Root
Another rises up to kisse her Foot;
Thus whether more she take or give none knows,
Whilst her Hand gathers what her Foot bestows.

By chance she then was gathering Flowers, when she
The Son of Venus spi'd, and Mercury:
On whose bright Looks her wanton Eyes she bent,
With which her longing Thoughts mov'd with Consent,
VVhil'st both her Sight, and Thoughts by seeing bred,
VVith pleasure on so sweet an Object fed.

But she sucks in Loves poyson with desire,
VVhich through her Eyes glides like a stream of fire
Into her Brest; where, with Ætnæan VVaves
Firing her Heart, the scalding Torrent raves.
And now she forward goes like a bold Lover,
Her flames to him that caus'd them, to discover.
But coming neer, she saw in's eyes there plaid
A wantonness with Modesty allayd:
VVhich though the Gazers Heart it set on Fire,
Quench'd yet the heat of a too bold Desire:
VVhence though Love spurr'd her on, fear held her back,
And though her heart did fly, her pace did slack.
Yet she observ'd to lighten in his Look
I know not what Majestick Grace, which strook
Her Eye not with more Terrour than Delight,
And lesse did dazle than it did invite.
VVhence fir'd with hope, yet freezing with despair,
She nearer fearfully approach'd; and there
Sent him by the light waftage of the VVind,
A sigh, an Ah Mee, Nuncios of her Mind.

And now her Passion gaining vent, affords
Her Tongue the liberty and use of words.
But lame, and broken; yet that serve t'imply,
'Twas this she meant, Be kind, or else I dye.
“Sweet Stranger! if a Soul lodge in thy Brest
“Fair as thy outside, hear a Nymphs Request:
“That begs thou'lt take thy Inn up in this shade.
“(And Gods their dwellings in the woods have made.)

“Here on this Bank may'st thou repose thy Head,
“Or on my Bosome make thy softer Bed:
“The Air here still is sweet, still cool; if by
“My sighs inflam'd it be not, or thy Eye.
“That Eye which quick as lightning Flames does dart;
“And sooner than I saw it, scorch'd my Heart.
“O more than happy wert thou, Salmacis!
“If he (but dream not of so great a Bliss)
“Should prove so kind to lay thee by his side,
“Not as his Mistris only, but his Bride.
“But if that Joy another do possess,
“O let me, as her Rivall ne'r the less
“(Since here is none that may the Theft reveal)
“From thy sweet Lips a kiss in private steal.
“But should some Goddess nourish in thy Brest
“A nobler fire; deny not a request
“To one that dyes; if more I cannot move,
“A kiss for pitty grant, if not for Love.
“Or if too much that seem; pray let me have
“What Sisters yet may from their Brothers crave.
Here ceast to speak; and with that forward prest
To have joynd Lip to Lip, and Brest to Brest.
But the shy youth coyly repulst her still,
As cold in Love, as deaf unto her will,
Dying with Blushes of a deeper stain,
The native Crimson of his Cheeks, in Grain.
(For a bold Suter, of a cold denier
When he the heart cannot, the face will fire)
At last with a coy look, thus mov'd, he spake.
“Fair Nymph be gon, or I the place forsake.
“You but deceive your self to think my Mind
“Will to such wanton Follies be enclin'd.
At which (with his desires glad to comply,
Yet loath to lose the pleasure of her Eye)
She sadly creeps behind a bushy Skreen,
There closely skulks to see, and not be seen.

And now the Planet worship'd in the East,
Rid on the Back of the Nemæan Beast;
And from the inflam'd Meridian that bends
Like to a Bow, his Beams like Arrows sends.
When this fair Traveller, with heat opprest,
And the days Toyls, here laid him down to rest
Where the soft Grass, and the thick Trees, displaid

A flowry Couch, and a cool Arbour made.
About him round the grassy spires (in hope
To gain a kisse) their verdant heads perk'd up.
The Lilly, the fields Candidate, there stands
A Suter for the favour of his hands:
And here the blush-dy'd Amaranthus seeks,
And finds it selfe outrivald in his Cheeks:
Whil'st the enamoured Trees t'embrace him, bend
Their shady Crowns, and leavy Arms extend.

Mean time from his fair Front he rains a showre
Of shining Pearl-drops, whilst his bright Eyes powre
On the Nymphs Heart (that melts through hot desire
T'enjoy what she beholds) a Flood of Fire.
This Place at length he leaves, rous'd by the Call
Of the neer waters sweetly murmuring fall.
Where, on the Bank his Sandals off he slips,
And in the Christal streams his Ankles dips.
Whil'st the cleer Lake, as his pure feet he laves,
Feels Love's warm Fires mix with its colder VVaves.
And now, not his fair feet content alone
To kisse, desires, (an amorous VVanton grown)
(That she might nearer to her wish aspire)
Her Bottom deeper, or her VVaters higher.
VVhich (to their power) to rise when moved seem,
As if they long'd to bath each curious Limb.

The Youth with pleasure on the Floud doth gaze,
And in that watery glasse his Face survaies,
Admiring, with a Look stedfastly set,
His reall Beauty in his Counterfeit.
And sure he with himself in Love had fell,
Had he not heard of fond Narcissus tell,
VVho from cold streams attracting fatall fire,
Did, to enjoy what he possest, expire.
Then stooping, he with hands together clos'd,
Hollowing their joyned Palmes, a cup compos'd
Of living Alablaster; which when fill'd
VVith the sweet Liquor the cleer Spring distill'd
He gently lifts it to his head, then sips,
Both bath and Beverage to his Looks and Lips.
Mean time with ravish'd thoughts the Nymph doth view
The sportive Lad, and whil'st he drinks, drinks too,
But in a different Manner: from the Lake
He his, her draught, she from his Eyes doth take.

His slacks his Thirst, hers more inflames desire,
He sucks in VVater, but she drinks in Fire.
And now, invited by the heat, and took
VVith the alluring Temper of the Brook,
Himself disroabing, the rich spoyl he throws
Away, and his pure Limbs all naked shows.
And like a new Sun with a darkening Cloud
Invested, casting off the envious shroud,
He round about his beautious Light displaies,
And makes the Earth a Heaven with his bright Raies.

The Nymph at this freezes at once and burns,
And fire with Love and Ice with wonder turns.
At length cries out; Ah me! what see I here?
What Deity leaving his heavenly Sphere
Is come to sport him in these shades? sure by
His wounding Look, and his inflaming Eye
It should be Love; but no light Wings appear
On his fair shoulders; strange he none should wear!
No; those he lent my heart; which from my Brest
Its flight hath took, and now in his doth rest.

Ah me thou living Ætna! cloath'd in snow,
Yet breathing flames, how lovely dost thou shew?
Cruell, yet cunning Archer! that my Heart
Thou sure might'st hit, t'allure me with the Dart.

But now from the green Bank on which he stood,
Fetching his Rise, he leaps into the Floud.
Whose fall, (as him the breaking Waters take)
With a white foame all silvers o'r the Lake.
Where, as he swims, and his fair Arms now bends,
Now their contracted Nerves again extends,
He the Nymphs Heart (that peeps behind an Oake)
Wounds from that Ivory Bow at every stroak.
Into another Form he then converts
The Motion of his Arms, and like to Darts,
Now this, now that, through the cleer Waves does shoot,
His Hand in Motion answer'd by his Foot.
For as he this Contracts, he that extends,
And when this forward, that he backward sends.
Whilst through the streams his purer Limbs, like snow
Or Lillies through transparent Chrystall show.
His flowing Hair, floating like that rich Fleece
Which the first Ship from Colchos brought to Greece.

The Nymph at this stands as of sense quite void,

Or as no Sense but Seeing she enjoy'd.
At last from her full Brest (of its close fire
The sparks) these broken Accents did expire.
“O why (as Arethusa, or the Joy
“Of Galatea) cannot I (sweet Boy)
“Melt to a floud for thee? then (my fair Sun!)
“Thou might'st (to bath thee) to my Bosome run.
More would sh'have said: but her full Passion stopt
Her Door of Speech, and her Eyes Floodgates op't.
Struck with Despair so dead, she scarce appears
To breath, or live, but by her sighs and tears;
Yet though her silent Tongue no Words impart,
Her speaking Thoughts discours'd thus with her heart.
“Fond Salmacis! why flag thy hopes? thy Mind
“What fears deject? on; nor be e'r declind'd;
“But boldly thy fair Enemy assail.
“See! thy desired Prey's within the Pale:
“And Love (perhaps in pitty of thy Pain,)
“Offers what was deny'd thee by disdain.
“Be resolute; and him whose conquering Eyes
“Made thee his Captive late, now make thy Prize.
“Fear not; for pardon justly hope he may
“Who plunders him that does deny to pay.

Thus she, rekindling her half-quench'd desires
Her Cheeks with Blushes, heart with boldness fires.
Then forward moves a little; and anon
Full speed, unto the Lake does madly run.
But in the mid'st of her Careere, repents,
And stops; suspended 'twixt two cross intents
Like to a wavering Ballance; on, afraid,
Back, loth to go, and yet to either sway'd.
Now she advances; then again retreats:
Her fears now conquers, then her hopes defeats.
Struck with Loves powerfull Thyrsus, at the last
(True Mænad-like) her lighter Robes off cast,
She hurries to the Lake, then in she skips;
And in her wanton Arms th'unwilling clips.

He, who Loves Fires ne'r felt in his cold Brest,
With fear at such a strange surprize possess'd,
For help began to cry; when she at this,
Ah, peace, saies; and his Mouth stop'd with a kiss.
Yet strugg'ling he her Wishes did deny,
And from her shunn'd Embraces strove to fly.

But whil'st he labours to get loose, t'his Brest
She faster cleaves; and his Lips harder prest.
So when Joves Bird a Snake hath truss'd, his Wings
The more that plies, the more that 'bout 'em clings,
And leaves it doubtfull to the Gazers view,
To tell which more is Pris'ner of the two.
Fearfull to lose yet her new-gotten prize,
The Nymph to heaven (sighing) erects her Eyes.
“And shall my Love (saies she) triumph in vain,
“Nor other Trophy than a bare kiss gain?
“O Jove! if what Fame sings of thee be true,
“If e'r thou did'st a Bulls fierce shape indue,
“And on thy Back from the Phænician shore,
“Through Seas thy Amorous Theft in Triumph bore,
“Assist my Vows; and grant that I may prove
“As happy in this Conquest of my Love:
“No force let our Embraces e'r disjoyn;
“Brest unto Brest unite, our souls entwine;
“Tye heart to heart; and let the knitting charmes
“Sweet kisses be; the Fetters, our soft Arms.
“Or if thou hast decreed that we must part
“Let that Divorce divide life from my Heart.

Jove heard her Prayers; and suddenly as strange,
Made of them both a mutuall Interchange;
And by an undiscern'd conjunction,
Two late divided Bodies, knit in One:
Her Body straight a Manly Vigor felt,
And his did to a Female softness melt.

Yet thus united, they with difference
Retain'd their proper Reason, Speech, and Sence.
He liv'd and she appart; yet each in either;
Both one might well be said, yet that One, neither.

This Story by a Rivers side (as they
Sate and discours'd the tedious hours away)
Amintas to the coy Iole told:
Then adds; O thou more fair, in Love more cold
Than he, Heaven yet may make thee mine in spite,
That can such differents, Ice and fire, unite.
This with a Sigh the Shepheard spake; whilst she
With a coy smile mock'd his simplicity.
But now the setting Sun poasting away,
Put both an End to their Discourse and Day.

FINIS

University of Virginia Library

EROTICA SALMACIS

BY Signeur GIROLAMO PRETI,