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35
TO
THE QVEENE,
entertain’d at night by
the Countesse of Anglesey.
Faire as unshaded Light; or as the Day
In its first birth, when all the Yeare was May;
Sweet, as the Altars smoake, or as the new
Unfolded Bud, swell'd by the early Dew;
Smooth, as the face of Waters first appear'd,
Ere Tides began to strive, or Winds were heard;
Kind, as the willing Saints, and calmer farre,
Than in their sleepes forgiven Hermits are:
You that are more, than our discreeter feare
Dares praise, with such dull Art, what make you here?
In its first birth, when all the Yeare was May;
Sweet, as the Altars smoake, or as the new
Unfolded Bud, swell'd by the early Dew;
Smooth, as the face of Waters first appear'd,
Ere Tides began to strive, or Winds were heard;
Kind, as the willing Saints, and calmer farre,
Than in their sleepes forgiven Hermits are:
You that are more, than our discreeter feare
Dares praise, with such dull Art, what make you here?
Here,
