Epistle XXX. To his Mistress lodging in a room where the Skie was painted

When (my Diviner soul) I did of late,
In thy fair chamber, for thy presence wait,
Looking aloft, (Thou know'st my look is high,
Else I'd ne'r dare to court Thee) I did spy.
Sun, Moon, and Stars, by th' painters art appear
At once all Culm'nant in one Hemisphere:
My small Astrology made me suppose,
Those Symptomes made the room prodigious.
Old time, (I thought) was crampt and night and day,
Both monosyllabled, to make me stay;
He'd broke his steps of daies and hours that he
Might rowle himself into Eternity.
The Sun, as tyred, with the course he ran,
Center'd himself in the Meridian:
And' cause 'twas there, I could not think it night,
Nor durst I call it day, 'cause 't gave no light:
I found the cause, and ceased to admire;
Thy eyes had stoln his sight, my heart his fire:
And that's the cause why Sun and Moon look'd dim,
Thy brighter face out luster'd her and him:
But (which increas'd my wonder) I could see,
No Meteor portend this prodigy;
Comets all wink'd at this, nor could I spy
One Blazing-star, but my portentive eye:
But as I mus'd, what Omen this should be,
They all stood still, as much amaz'd at me:
The wandring Planets had forgot to vary;
Gazing on me, because all stationary:
Envying thy beauty, they're together gon,
To make a perfect constellation:
And their conjunctions t' imitate our lips,
Was but a loving kiss, not an Eclipse:
Sol draws a Regiment of stars, to be
Tapers to light thee into bed to me:
Yet could not shine, until they were inspir'd
By the same flames, by which my heart was fir'd.
Come then lye down, do thou withdraw thy light,
They'l be, to please us, a perpetual night:
Sol shall be Cupid, blind, and thou his mother,
And as we've marr'd one Sun, we'l get another.

In 1642.