VI. LYRICS PRINTED IN ALL ORIGINAL EDITIONS OF STANLEY.
The Breath.
Favonius, the milder breath o’ th’ Spring,
When proudly bearing on his softer wing
Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves
He steals, as by the phœnix-pyre he moves,
Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense5
To the next rose’s blushing innocence;
But from the grateful flower, a richer scent
He doth receive[26:1] than he unto it lent.
Then, laden with his odour’s richest store,
He to thy breath hastes, to which these are poor;10
Which, whilst the amorous wind[26:2] to steal essays,
He like a wanton lover ’bout thee plays,
And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie,
And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye:
Drawn in at last by that breath we implore,15
He now[26:3] returns far sweeter than before,
And rich by being robb’d, in thee he finds
The burning sweets of pyres, the cool of winds.
Chariessa.[27:1] What if Night
Should betray us, and reveal
To the light
All the pleasures that we steal?
Philocharis. Fairest! we5
Safely may this fear despise:
How can she
See our actions, who wants eyes?
Chariessa. Each dim star,
And the clearer lights, we know,10
Night’s eyes are:
They were blind that thought her so!