And _Flora_ by the miracle reviv'd, Doth even at her owne beauty wondring stand. But should she frowne, the Northerne wind arriv'd, In midst of Summer, leads his frozen band: Which doth to yce my youthfull blood congeale, Yet in the midst of yce, still flames my zeale. _In_ CASTARA, _All fortunes_. Ye glorious wits, who finde then Parian stone, A nobler quarry to build trophies on, Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time; Go court loud fame, He wins it, who but sings _Castara's_ name? Aspiring soules, who grow but in a Spring, Forc't by the warmth of some indulgent King: Know if _Castara_ smile: I dwell in it, And vie for glory with the Favorit. Ye sonnes of avarice, who but to share Uncertaine treasure with a certaine care. Tempt death in th' horrid Ocean: I, when ere I but approach her, find the Indies there. Heaven brightest Saint, kinde to my vowes made thee Of all ambition courts, th' Epitome. _Upon thought_ CASTARA _may dye_. If she should dye, (as well suspect we may, A body so compact should ne're decay) Her brighter soule would in the Moone inspire More chastity, in dimmer starres more fire. You twins of _Læda_ (as your parents are In their wild lusts) may grow irregular Now in your motion: for the marriner Henceforth shall onely steere his course by her. And when the zeale of after time[8] shall spie Her uncorrupt ith' happy marble lie; The roses in her cheekes unwithered, 'Twill turne to love, and dote upon the dead. For he who did to her in life dispence A heaven, will banish all corruption thence. [8] times. 1634. _Time to the moments, on sight of_ CASTARA. You younger children of your father stay, Swift flying moments (which divide the day And with your number measure out the yeare In various seasons) stay and wonder here. For since my cradle, I so bright a grace Ne're saw, as you see in _Castara's_ face; Whom nature to revenge some youthfull crime Would never frame, till age had weakened Time. Else spight of fate, in some faire forme of clay My youth I'de bodied, throwne my sythe away, And broke my glasse. But since that cannot be, I'le punish Nature for her injurie. On nimble moments in your journey flie, _Castara_ shall like me, grow old, and die. _To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved._ Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise From view, if he but covered lies, Ith' veile of my transparent eyes. Though in a smile himselfe he hide, Or in a sigh, thou art so tride In all his arts, hee'le be discride. I must confesse (Deare friend) my flame, Whose boasts _Castara_ so doth tame, That not thy faith, shall know her name. Twere prophanation of my zeale, If but abroad one whisper steale, They love betray, who him reveale.