Invites His Nymph to His Cottage

ON you' Hill's Top which this sweet Plain commands,
Fair Cynthia, all alone my Cottage stands,
'Gainst Storms, and scorching Heats well fortify'd,
With Pines, and spreading Oaks on ev'ry side.

My Lovely Garden too adjoyning lyes,
Of sweetest Flowers, and of the richest Dyes:
The Tulip, Jas'min, Emony, and Rose,
Of which we'll Garlands for thy Head compose.

Nature to make my Fountain, did its Part,
Which ever flows without the help of Art,
A faithful Mirroir shall its Waters be,
Where thou may'st sit beneath a shady Tree,

Admiring what above the World I prize,
Thy self, the Object of thine own fair Eyes;
And which is greatest let the Spring proclaim,
Thy Powers of Love, or this my Amorous Flame.