Come, my Dear, whilst youth conspires
With the warmth of our desires!
Envious Time about thee watches,
And some grace each minute snatches:
Now a spirit, now a ray5
From thy eye he steals away;
Now he blasts some blooming rose
Which upon thy fresh cheek grows;
Gold now plunders in a hair;
Now the rubies doth impair10
Of thy lips; and with sure haste
All thy wealth will take at last;
Only that of which thou mak’st
Use in time, from Time thou tak’st.
Song.
[De Voiture.]
I languish in a silent flame:
For she to whom my vows incline
Doth own perfections so divine,
That but to speak were to disclose her name.
If I should say that she the store5
Of Nature’s graces doth comprise,
(The love and wonder of all eyes,)
Who will not guess the Beauty I adore?
Or though I warily conceal
The charms her looks and soul possess,10
Should I her cruelty express,
And say she smiles at all the pains we feel,
Among such suppliants as implore
Pity, distributing her hate,
Inexorable as their fate,—15
Who will not guess the Beauty I adore?
Apollo and Daphne.
[Marino.]
When Phœbus saw a rugged bark beguile
His love, and his embraces intercept,
The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile,
Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept,
‘How can,’ saith he, ‘my woes expect release,5
When these,[62:1] the subject of my tears, increase?’