As a fir'd Altar, is each stone
Spirting forth pounded Cinnamon.
The Phœnix nest,
Built up of odours, burneth in her breast.
Who would not then consumeash-heaps]
His soul to ashes in that rich perfume?
Bestroking Fate the while
He burns to embers on the Pile.
5 [4].
ground]
"Hymen, O Hymen! tread the sacred round
Shew thy white feet, and head with Marjoram crowned:
Mount up thy flames, and let thy Torch
Display thy Bridegroom in the porch
In his desiresdisparkling]
More towering, more besparkling than thy fires:
Shew her how his eyes do turn
And roll about, and in their motions burn
Their balls to cinders: haste
Or, like a firebrand, he will waste.
- 6 ##
6.
"See how he waves his hand, and through his eyes
Shoots forth his jealous soul, for to surprise
And ravish you his Bride, do you
Not now perceive the soul of C[lipseby] C[rew],
Your mayden knight,
With kisses to inspire
You with his just and ho
