Behold a wonder here!
Love hath received his sight!
Which, many hundred years,
Hath not beheld the light.
Such beams infusèd be,
By Cynthia in his eyes;
As first have made him see,
And then have made him wise.
Love now no more will weep
For them, that laugh the while!
Nor wake for them that sleep!
Nor sigh for them that smile!
So powerful is the Beauty,
That Love doth now behold;
As Love is turned to Duty,
That's neither blind, nor bold.
This Beauty shews her might,
To be of double kind;
In giving Love his sight,
And striking Folly blind.
Daphne was not so chaste, as she was changing,
Soon begun, Love with Hate estranging.
He that to-day triumphs, with favours graced;
Falls before night, with scorns defaced.
Yet is thy beauty feigned! and every one desires
Still, the false light of thy trait'rous fires!
Beauty can want no grace by true love viewed,
Fancy by looks is still renewed;
Like to a fruitful tree it ever groweth,
Or the fresh spring that endless floweth.
But if that Beauty were of one consent with Love;
Love should live free, and true pleasure prove!