Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/81

Rh a still, silent night, scarce could I number One of the clock, but that a golden slumber Had lockt my senses fast, and carried me Into a world of blest felicity, I know not how: first to a garden, where The apricock, the cherry, and the pear, The strawberry, and plum, were fairer far Than that eye-pleasing fruit that caus'd the jar Betwixt the goddesses, and tempted more Than fair Atlanta's ball, though gilded o'er. I gaz'd awhile on these, and presently A silver stream ran softly gliding by, Upon whose banks, lilies more white than snow New fall'n from heaven, with violets mixt, did grow; Whose scent so chaf'd the neighbour air, that you Would surely swear that Arabick spices grew Not far from thence, or that the place had been With musk prepar'd, to entertain Love's queen. Whilst I admir'd, the river past away, And up a grove did spring, green as in May When April had been moist; upon whose bushes The pretty robins, nightingales, and thrushes Warbled their notes so sweetly, that my ears Did judge at least the musick of the spheres. But here my gentle dream conveyed me Into the place where I most long'd to see, My mistress' bed; who, some few blushes past And smiling frowns, contented was at last To let me touch her neck; I, not content With that, slipt to her breast, thence lower went, And then I awak'd.

all, my love; burbut [sic] be withal as coy As if thou knew'st not how to sport and toy: The fort resign'd with ease, men cowards prove And lazy grow. Let me besiege my love; Let me despair at least three times a day, And take repulses upon each essay: If I but ask a kiss, straight blush as red As if I tempted for thy maidenhead;