Page:Hesperides Vol 1.djvu/178

 Tis she! 'tis she! or else some more divine Enlightened substance; mark how from the shrine Of holy saints she paces on, Treading upon vermilion And amber: spic- ing the chaft air with fumes of Paradise. Then come on, come on and yield A savour like unto a blessed field When the bedabbled morn Washes the golden ears of corn.

See where she comes; and smell how all the street Breathes vineyards and pomegranates: O how sweet! As a fir'd altar is each stone, Perspiring pounded cinnamon. The phœnix' nest, Built up of odours, burneth in her breast. Who, therein, would not consume His soul to ash-heaps in that rich perfume? Bestroking fate the while He burns to embers on the pile.

Hymen, O Hymen! tread the sacred ground; Show thy white feet and head with marjoram crown'd: Mount up thy flames and let thy torch Display the bridegroom in the porch, In his desires More towering, more disparkling than thy fires: