The little Love-god lying
once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming
brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life
to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that
fire
Which many legions of true hearts had
warm'd;
And so the general of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched in a cool well
by,
Which from Love's fire took heat
perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased; but I, my mistress'
thrall,
Came there for cure, and
this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water,
water cools not love.
No comments:
Post a Comment