JASPER MAYNE

Since then the Night hath hurl'd

Darkness, Love's shade, Over its enemy the Day, and made

The world

Just such a blind and shapeless thing As 'twas before light did from darkness spring, Let us employ its treasure And make shade pleasure : Let 's number out the hours by blisses, And count the minutes by our kisses ; Let the heavens new motions feel And by our embraces wheel ; And whilst we try the way By which Love doth convey Soul unto soul, And mingling so Makes them such raptures know As makes them entranced lie

In mutual ecstasy, Let the harmonious spheres in music roll !

WILLIAM HABINGTON . To Roses in the Bosom of Castara

blushing virgins happy are In the chaste nunnery of her breasts For he'd profane so chaste a fair,

Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.

Transplanted thus how bright ye grow !

How rich a perfume do ye yield ! In some close garden cowslips so

Are sweeter than i' th' open field.

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