And knit in knots far more than I
Can tell by tongue, or true-love tie;
Next, when those lawny films I see
Play with a wild civility,
And all those airy silks to flow,
Alluring me, and tempting so:
I must confess mine eye and heart
Dotes less on Nature than on Art.
564. UPON HIS KINSWOMAN, MISTRESS BRIDGET HERRICK.
Sweet Bridget blush'd, and therewithal
Fresh blossoms from her cheeks did fall.
I thought at first 'twas but a dream,
Till after I had handled them
And smelt them, then they smelt to me
As blossoms of the almond tree.
565. UPON LOVE.
I played with Love, as with the fire
The wanton Satyr did;
Nor did I know, or could descry
What under there was hid.
That Satyr he but burnt his lips;
But mine's the greater smart,
For kissing Love's dissembling chips
The fire scorch'd my heart.
Civility, order.
The wanton Satyr, see Note.
