Tixall Poetry.
137
And blustering stormes doe but forerun
The luster of a brighter sun;
Which, when appeared, I'm full posest
Her frownes are but in iest.
The luster of a brighter sun;
Which, when appeared, I'm full posest
Her frownes are but in iest.
I know, faire Flora, in thy breast
A killing anger cannot rest;
Yet, for my humour I will love,
Though thou to me a fury prove:
I know thy soule is soe refind,
Thou wilt at last prove kind.
A killing anger cannot rest;
Yet, for my humour I will love,
Though thou to me a fury prove:
I know thy soule is soe refind,
Thou wilt at last prove kind.
XXIV.
The Lost Mistress.
Tell me, you wandring spirits of the aire,
Did you not see a nimph, more bright, more faire,
Then Venus' darling, or of parts more sweet
Then stolne delights? if such a one you meet,
Did you not see a nimph, more bright, more faire,
Then Venus' darling, or of parts more sweet
Then stolne delights? if such a one you meet,
