crifice
To saphyrs, 'stead of veins and arteries,
And bow'd unto the diamonds, not her eyes.

VI.
Behold LUCASTA'S face, how't glows like noon!
A sun intire is her complexion,
And form'd of one whole constellation.

VII.
So gently shining, so serene, so cleer,
Her look doth universal Nature cheer;
Only a cloud or two hangs here and there.

TO LUCASTA.

I.
I laugh and sing, but cannot tell
Whether the folly on't sounds well;
But then I groan,
Methinks, in tune;
Whilst grief, despair and fear dance to the air
Of my despised prayer.

II.
A pretty antick love does this,
Then strikes a galliard with a kiss;
As in the end
The chords they rend;
So you but with a touch from your fair hand
Turn all to saraband.

TO LUCASTA.

I.
Like to the sent'nel stars, I watch all night;
For still the grand round of your light
And glorious breast
Awake<66.1> in me an east:
Nor will my rolling eyes ere know a west.

II.
Now on my down I'm toss'd as on a wave,
And my repose is made my grave;
Fluttering I lye,
Do beat my self and dye,
But for a resurrection from your eye.

III.
Ah, my fair murdresse! dost thou cruelly heal
With various pains to make me well?
Then let me be
Thy cut anatomie,
And in each mangled part my heart you'l see.

<66.1> Original has AWAKES.

LUCASTA AT THE BATH.

I.
I' th' autumn of a summer's day,
When all the winds got leave to play,
LUCASTA, that fair ship, is lanch'd,
And from its crust this almond blanch'd.

II.
Blow then, unruly northwind, blow,
'Till in their holds your eyes you stow;
And swell your cheeks, bequeath chill death;
See! she hath smil'd thee out of breath.

III.
Court, gentle zephyr, court and fan
Her softer breast's carnation wan;
Your charming rhethorick of down
Flyes scatter'd from before her frown.

IV.
Say, my white water-lilly, say,
How is't those warm streams break away,
Cut by thy chast cold breast, which dwells
Amidst them arm'd in isicles?

V.
And the hot floods, more raging grown,
In flames of