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 LXVIII.

STELLA! The only planet of my light! Light of my life! and life of my desire! Chief good! whereto my hope doth only aspire: World of my wealth! and heaven of my delight! Why dost thou spend the treasures of thy sprite, With voice more fit to wed AMPHION'S lyre; Seeking to quench in me the noble fire, Fed by thy worth, and blinded by thy sight? And all in vain, for while thy breath so sweet, With choicest words; thy words, with reasons rare; Thy reasons firmly set on Virtue's feet; Labour to kill in me this killing care: O think I then, what paradise of joy It is, so fair a virtue to enjoy?

LXIX.

O joy! Too high for my low style to show. O bliss! fit for a nobler seat than me. ENVY! put out thine eyes! lest thou do see What oceans of delight in me do flow. My friend! that oft saw, through all masks, my woe. Come! come! and let me pour myself on thee! Gone is the winter of my misery! My spring appears! O see what here doth grow! For STELLA hath with words (where faith doth shine), Of her high heart given me the monarchy: I! I! O I may say that she is mine. And though she give but thus conditionally This realm of bliss, "while virtuous course I take:" No kings be crowned, but they some covenant make.