The breath of time shall blast the flowry Spring, Which so perfumes thy cheeke, and with it bring So darke a mist, as shall eclipse the light Of thy faire eyes, in an eternall night. Some melancholly chamber of the earth, [24](For that like Time devoures whom it gave breath) Thy beauties shall entombe, while all who ere Lov'd nobly, offer up their sorrowes there. But I whose griefe no formall limits bound, Beholding the darke caverne of that ground, Will there immure my selfe. And thus I shall Thy mourner be, and my owne funerall. Else by the weeping magicke of my verse, Thou hadst reviv'd, to triumph o're thy hearse. [24] (For she like Time devoures whom she gave breath) [25]_To the Right Honourable, the Lord_ P. My Lord. The reverend man by magicke of his prayer Hath charm'd so, that I and your daughter are Contracted into one. The holy lights Smil'd with a cheerfull lustre on our rites, And every thing presag'd full happinesse To mutuall love; if you'le the omen blesse. Nor grieve, my Lord, 'tis perfected. Before Afflicted Seas sought refuge on the shore From the angry North-wind. Ere th'astonisht Spring Heard in the ayre the feather'd people sing, Ere time had motion, or the Sunne obtain'd His province o're the day, this was ordain'd. Nor thinke in her I courted wealth or blood, Or more uncertaine hopes: for had I stood On th' highest ground of fortune, the world knowne No greatnesse but what waited on my throne; And she had onely had that face and mind, I, with my selfe, had th'earth to her resign'd. In vertue there's an Empire. And so sweete The rule is when it doth with beauty meete, As fellow Consull; that of heaven they Nor earth partake; who would her disobey. This captiv'd me. And ere I question'd why I ought to love _Castara_, through my eye, This soft obedience stole into my heart. Then found I love might lend to th'quick-ey'd art Of Reason yet a purer sight: For he Though blind, taught her these Indies first to see, In whose possession I at length am blest, And with my selfe at quiet, here I rest, As all things to my powre subdu'd, To me Ther's nought beyond this. The whole world is she. [25] _To the Right Honorable, my very good Lord, the Lord_ P. 1634, 1635. _His Muse speakes to him._