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Flames turn to frost

And ere we can

Know how our crow turns swan,
Or how a silver snow

Springs there where jet did grow,

Our fading spring is in dull winter lost.

Since then the night hath hurled
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 into soul,

And mingling so

Makes them such raptures know
As makes them entranced lie

In mutual ecstacy,

Let the harmonious spheres in music roll.

C

From THOMAS FORDE'S Love's
Labyrinth, 1660.

LOVE'S DUEL.

UPID all his arts did prove

To invite my heart to love;
But I always did delay

His mild summons to obey,
Being deaf to all his charms.

Straight the god assumes his arms;
With his bow and quiver he
Takes the field to duel me.
Armed like Achilles, I

With my shield alone defy
His bold challenge as he cast
His golden darts, I as fast
Catched his arrows in my shield
Till I made him leave the field.
Fretting and disarmed then
The angry god returns again
All in flames; 'stead of a dart
Throws himself into my heart.
Useless I my shield require
When the fort is all on fire;
I in vain the field did win
Now the enemy's within.
Thus betrayed, at last I cry,
"Love, thou hast the victory."

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NOTES.

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