LXXVI.
She comes! and straight therewith her shining twins do move
Their rays to me; who, in her tedious absence, lay
Benighted in cold woe: but now appears my day,
The only light of joy, the only warmth of love.
She comes with light and warmth! which like AURORA
Of gentle force, so that mine eyes dare gladly play
With such a rosy morn; whose beams, most freshly gay,
Scorch not: but only do dark chilling sprites remove.
But lo! while I do speak, it groweth noon with me;
Her flamy glistering lights increase with time and place:
My heart cries, "Ah! It burns!" Mine eyes now dazzled be.
No wind, no shade can cool. What help then in my case?
But with short breath, long looks, stayed feet, and walking head;
Pray that my Sun go down with meeker beams to bed.
LXXVII.
Those looks! whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight;
That face! whose lecture shows what perfect beauty
That presence which doth give dark hearts a living light;
That grace! which VENUS weeps that she herself doth miss;
That hand! which without touch, holds more than ATLAS' might;
Those lips! which make death's pay, a mean price for a kiss;
That skin! whose past-praisehue scorns this poor term of white;
Those words! which do sublime the quintessence of bliss;
That voice! which makes the soul plant himself in the ears;
That conversation sweet! where such high comforts be,
As construed in true speech, the name of heaven it bears:
Make me in my best thoughts and quiet'st judgment see
That in no more but these, I might be fully blest;
Yet, ah! My maiden Muse doth blush to tell the rest.
