My faire, had I not erst adorned my Lute With those sweet strings stolne from thy golden hayre, Vnto the world had all my ioyes been mute, Nor had I learn'd to descant on my faire. Had not mine eye seene thy Celestiall eye, Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name, My soule had ne'er felt thy Diuinitie, Nor my Muse been the trumpet of thy fame. But thy diuine perfections, by their skill, This miracle on my poore Muse haue tried, And, by inspiring, glorifide my quill, And in my verse thy selfe art deified: Thus from thy selfe the cause is thus deriued, That by thy fame all fame shall be suruiued. Amour 5 Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected, The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite; No Virgin once attending on that light, Nor yet those heauenly secrets once respected; Till thou alone, to pay the heauens their dutie Within the Temple of thy sacred name, With thine eyes kindling that Celestiall flame, By those reflecting Sun-beames of thy beautie. Here Chastity that Vestall most diuine, Attends that Lampe with eye which neuer sleepeth; The volumes of Religions lawes shee keepeth, Making thy breast that sacred reliques shryne, Where blessed Angels, singing day and night, Praise him which made that fire, which lends that light. Amour 6 In one whole world is but one Phoenix found, A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone: By thy rare plume thy kind is easly knowne, With heauenly colours dide, with natures wonder cround. Heape thine own vertues, seasoned by their sunne, On heauenly top of thy diuine desire; Then with thy beautie set the same on fire, So by thy death thy life shall be begunne. Thy selfe, thus burned in this sacred flame, With thine owne sweetnes al the heauens perfuming, And stil increasing as thou art consuming, Shalt spring againe from th' ashes of thy fame; And mounting vp shall to the heauens ascend: So maist thou liue, past world, past fame, past end. Amour 7 Stay, stay, sweet Time; behold, or ere thou passe From world to world, thou long hast sought to see, That wonder now wherein all wonders be, Where heauen beholds her in a mortall glasse. Nay, looke thee, Time, in this Celesteall glasse, And thy youth past in this faire mirror see: Behold worlds Beautie in her infancie, What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was. Now passe on, Time: to after-worlds tell this, Tell truelie, Time, what in thy time hath beene, That they may tel more worlds what Time hath seene, And heauen may ioy to think on past worlds blisse. Heere make a Period, Time, and saie for mee, She was the like that neuer was, nor neuer more shalbe. Amour 8