Love's World — Translated out of Astrea

That Artist Love another World has made,
To which in'ts Centre fixt my Faith's the Earth:
And as on Earth the Worlds Foundation's laid,
My Faith the ground-sell is to this fair Birth.

If any jealous Fears are there disclos'd,
This constant Faith within my Breast to shake,
'Tis like those Winds within the Earth inclos'd,
Which with their riots make her Entrails
quake.

My Tears the Ocean are: to dry those tears
A task no less, than to exhaust the Main:
'Cause of my Sighs, that I'me not lov'd the fear:
Those sighs the Storm, that stirs the Watry Plain.

Bitter's this Sea; although its liquid course
Is but of Rivers sweet a concourse great;
More bitter are my Tears, pleasant their sourse
As sprung from you unto my Heart more sweet.

My Will's the Air, which in her power free
About my Faith in constant motion roves
The Winds Desires hot from their infancy,
By which, as Air by Winds, my will still moves.

And as th'unruly Winds diversly stray
Though lock'd in Mountains, whence they dare not part:
So my Desires unto Respect obey,
And dare not break that Prison of my heart.

The hidden Fire, which compasseth the Air,
Is th'undiscover'd Flame, wherewith I burn;
And, as that great Fire does to none appear,
So to Mens Eyes a borrow'd Face I turn.

My Hope's the waxing and the waining Moon,
Borrowing from you alone her glorious hue:
But when it darkly in the Clouds doth run,
'Tis doubtfull thought, that vainly follows you.

Your Eye's the Sun incomparably bright,
Fair Eye Love's Sun, which to us all Light gives:
If th'other Sun gives the World living Light,
What Lover can deny by you he lives?

Why with such beauty has Love furnish'd you,
As that your sight's his Day, your absence Night,
If not t' injoy that blessing of your view?
Then let us rather live, than perish by't.

The Summer's my hot Blouds redundancy;
And frozen Fear my cold, chill Winter brings.
But what of this, if still my Autumn be
As void of Fruit, as void of Flowers my Spring?