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AONIAN sisters, help my Phræne's praise to tell, Phræne, heart of my heart, with whom the graces dwell;

For I surcharged am so sore that I not know What first to praise of her, her breast, or neck of



Her cheeks with roses spread, or her two sun-like Her teeth of brightest pearl, her lips where sweetness lies: [forth, But those so praise themselves, being to all eyes set That, Muses, ye need not to say aught of their worth; Then her white swelling paps essay for to make known, [are shown; But her white swelling paps through smallest veil Yet she hath something else, more worthy than the rest,

Not seen; go sing of that which lies beneath her breast, And mounts like fair Parnasse, where Pegase well


THOUGH I with strange desire

To kiss those rosy lips am set on fire,

Yet will I cease to crave

Sweet kisses in such store,

doth run

Here Phræne stay'd my Muse ere she had well begun. In equal measure got,

As he who long before

In thousands them from Lesbia did receive: Sweetheart, but once me kiss,

And I by that sweet bliss

Even swear to cease you to importune more;
Poor one no number is;

Another word of me ye shall not hear
After one kiss, but still one kiss, my dear.

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WHILST Sighing forth his wrongs,
In sweet though doleful songs,
Alexis sought to charm his Rora's ears,
To sigh each spring appear'd,
The hills were heard to moan,
Trees, hardest trees, through rhind distill'd their
And soft grew every stone :


But tears, nor sighs, nor songs could Rora move, For she rejoiced at his plaint and love.


HARK, happy lovers, hark,
This first and last of joys,
This nectar of the gods,
This sweet'ner of annoys,

You call a kiss, is with itself at odds;
And half so sweet is not

At light of Sun, as it is in the dark: Hark, happy lovers, hark.

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To forge to mighty Jove
The thunderbolts above,
Nor on this round below
Rich Midas' skill to know,

And make all gold I touch,

Do I desire; it is for me too much:

Of all the arts practis'd beneath the sky,
I would but Phillis' lapidary be.


NISA, Palemon's wife, him weeping told
He kept not grammer rules, now being old;
For why, quoth she, position false make ye,
Putting a short thing where a long should be.

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WHO would perfection's fair idea see,
On pretty Cloris let him look with me;

White is her hair, her teeth white, white her skin,
Black be her eyes, her eye-brows Cupid's inn:
Her locks, her body, hands do long appear,
But teeth short, short her womb, and either ear,
The space 'twixt shoulders; eyes are wide, brow wide,
Strait waist, the mouth strait, and her virgin pride.
Thick are her lips, thighs, with banks swelling there,
Her nose is small, small fingers, and her hair,
Her sugar'd mouth, her cheeks, her nails be red,
Little her foot, breast little, and her head.
Such Venus was, such was that flame of Troy,
Such Cloris is, mine hope and only joy.


AMIDST the waves profound,

Far, far from all relief,

The honest fisher Lalus, ah! is drown'd,

Shut in this little skiff;

The boards of which did serve him for a bier,
So that when he to the black world came near,
Of him no silver greedy Charon got;
For he in his own boat
Did pass that flood, by which the gods do swear.




TRIUMPHANT arches, statues crown'd with bays,
Proud obelisks, tombs of the vastest frame,
Brazen Colosses, Atlases of fame,

And temples builded to vain deities' praise;
States which unsatiate minds in blood do raise,
From southern pole unto the arctic team,
And even what we write to keep our name,
Like spiders' cauls, are made the sport of days;

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As I (wing'd with contempt and just disdain)
Now fly the world, and what it most doth prize,
And sanctuary seek, free to remain

From wounds of abject times, and envy's eyes:
To me this world did once seem sweet and fair,
While sense's light mind's perspective kept blind;
Now like imagin'd landscape in the air,
And weeping rainbows, her best joys I find :
Or if aught here is had that praise should have,
It is an obscure life and silent grave.

Of this fair volume which we world do name,
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare,

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