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 As a fir'd Altar, is each stone Spirting forth pounded Cinnamon. The Phœnix nest, Built up of odours, burneth in her breast. Who would not then consumeash-heaps] His soul to ashes in that rich perfume? Bestroking Fate the while He burns to embers on the Pile. 5 [4]. ground] "Hymen, O Hymen! tread the sacred round Shew thy white feet, and head with Marjoram crowned: Mount up thy flames, and let thy Torch Display thy Bridegroom in the porch In his desiresdisparkling] More towering, more besparkling than thy fires: Shew her how his eyes do turn And roll about, and in their motions burn Their balls to cinders: haste Or, like a firebrand, he will waste.


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"See how he waves his hand, and through his eyes Shoots forth his jealous soul, for to surprise And ravish you his Bride, do you Not now perceive the soul of C[lipseby] C[rew], Your mayden knight, With kisses to inspire You with his just and ho