is an active flame that flies,
First, to the babies of the eyes;
And charms them there with lullabies.
_Chor._ And stills the bride, too, when she cries.

2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,
It frisks and flies, now here, now there,
'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near.
_Chor._ And here and there and everywhere.

1. Has it a speaking virtue? 2. Yes.
1. How speaks it, say? 2. Do you but this;
Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss
_Chor._ And this love's sweetest language is.

1. Has it a body? 2. Aye, and wings
With thousand rare encolourings;
And, as it flies, it gently sings,
_Chor._ Love honey yields, but never stings.

330. THE ADMONITION.

Seest thou those diamonds which she wears
In that rich carcanet;
Or those, on her dishevell'd hairs,
Fair pearls in order set?
Believe, young man, all those were tears
By wretched wooers sent,
In mournful hyacinths and rue,
That figure discontent;
Which when not warmed by her view,
By cold neglect, each one
Congeal'd to pearl and stone;
Which precious spoils upon her
She wears as trophies of her honour.
Ah then, consider, what all this implies:
She that will wear thy tears would wear thine eyes.

_Carcanet_, necklace.

331. TO HIS HONOURED KINSMAN, SIR WILLIAM SOAME. EPIG.

I can but name thee, and methinks I call
All that have been, or are canonical
For love and bounty to come near, and see
Their many virtues volum'd up in thee;
In thee, brave man! whose incorrupted fame
Casts forth a light like to a virgin flame;
And as it shines it throws a scent about,
As when a rainbow in perfumes goes out.
So vanish hence, but leave a name as sweet
As benjamin and storax when they meet.

_Benjamin_, gum benzoin.
_Storax_ or _Styrax_, another resinous gum.

332. ON HIMSELF.

Ask me why I do not sing
To the tension of the string
As I did not long ago,
When my numbers full did flow?
Grief, ay, me! hath struck my lute
And my tongue, at one time, mute.

333. TO LAR.

No more shall I, since I am driven hence,
Devote to thee my grains of frankincense;
No more shall I from mantle-trees hang down,
To honour thee, my little parsle