WILLIAM DRUMMOND
Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death.
The winds all silent are;
And Phoebus in his chair
Ensaffroning sea and air
Makes vanish every star.
Night like a drunkard reels
Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels:
The fields with flowers arc deck'd in every hue,
The clouds bespangle with bright gold their blue
Here is the pleasant place
And everything, save Her, who all should grace.
��255 Madrigal
ECE the Idalian queen, Her hair about her eyne, With neck and breast's ripe apples to be seen,
At first glance of the morn In Cyprus' gardens gathering those fair flow'rs
Which of her blood were born, I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours. The Graces naked danced about the place,
The winds and trees amazed
With silence on her gazed,
The flowers did smile, like those upon her face; And as their aspen stalks those fingers band,
That she might read my case, A hyacinth I wibh'd me in her hand.
2 33 paramours] = sing, paramour. band] bound.
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