The Rose and Lily (Sonnet)

COurted by Cupids, and the Amorous Air,
Upon a shady Throne, at her Repose,
She sate, than whom, none e're so sweet or fair;
It was the Queen of Flowers, the Blushing Rose.

With no less pride, upon his Bed of State,
A Lily, pale with Envy, look'd that way;
With humble Flowers, encompass'd round he sate,
And scorn'd the Scepter at her Feet to lay.

To Arms, with Thorns and Prickles, they prepare,
And each designs to try it out by War;
Till on good Counsel, they in Rule combine:
So in your Face, the lovely White and Red,
Cynthia, I see, all Quarrels banished,
And Rose and Lily do in Empire joyne.