ASK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beautys
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did
Those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing
She winters and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your
eyes they sit, and there
Fixàed become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if east or west
The Phnix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
in your fragrant bosom dies.
IF the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish and anon must die;
If every sweet and every
Must fly from that forsaken face;
Then, Celia, let us reap our joys
Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.
Or if that golden fleece must grow
For ever free from agàed snow;
If those bright suns must
know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
What, still being gatherd,
still must grow.
Thus either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.
WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate
From all the joys of Love, shalt see
The full reward and
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy!
A fairer hand than thine shall cure
That heart which thy false oaths did wound;
And to my soul
a soul more pure
Than thine shall by Loves hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crownd.
Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain
To Love, as I did once to thee;
When all thy tears
shall be as vain
As mine were then: for thou shalt be
Damnd for thy false apostasy.
HE that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
maintain his fires:
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
KNOW, Celia, since thou art so proud,
Twas I that gave thee thy renown.
Thou hadst in the
Of common beauties lived unknown,
Had not my verse extolld thy name,
And with it impd1
the wings of Fame.
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