Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/86

66 To find out virtues strangely hid in me; Ay, there's the art and learned poetry! To make one striding of a barbed steed, Prancing a stately round—I use indeed To ride Bat Jewel's jade—this is the skill, This shows the poet wants not wit at will. I must admire aloof, and for my part Be well contented, since you do 't with art.

long, how I could harmless see Men gazing on those beams that fired me, At last I found it was the crystal, Love, Before my heart that did the heat improve: Which, by contracting of those scatter'd rays Into itself, did so produce my blaze. Now, lighted by my love, I see the same Beams dazzle those, that me are wont t' inflame; And now I bless my love, when I do think By how much I had rather burn than wink. But how much happier were it thus to burn, If I had liberty to choose my urn! But since those beams do promise only fire, This flame shall purge me of the dross, Desire.

thou be'st ice, I do admire How thou couldst set my heart on fire; Or how thy fire could kindle me, Thou being ice, and not melt thee; But even my flames, light as thy own, Have hard'ned thee into a stone! Wonder of love, that canst fulfil, Inverting nature thus, thy will; Making ice one another burn, Whilst itself doth harder turn!