Elegies of Loue

Like as the diuers-fretchled Butter-flye,
When Winter's frost is fallne upon his winge,
Hath onely left life's possibility,
and lies halfe dead untill the cherefull Spring:

But then the Sunne from his all-quickning eye,
Darts forth a sparkle of the liuinge fire:
Which with kinde heate, doth warme the frozen flye
and with newe spirit his little breast inspire:

Then doth hee lightly rise and spread his winges,
And with the beames that gaue him life doth playe:
Tasts euery flower that on th' earthe's bosoome springs,
and is in busye motion all the day:

Soe my gaye Muse, which did my heart possesse,
And in my youthful fantasie doth raigne:
Which cleard my forehead with her cheerefullnes
and gaue a liuely warmth unto my brayne:
With sadder studye, and with graue conceite
Which late my Immagination entertaynd:
Beganne to shrinke, and loose her actiue heate,
and dead as in a læthargy remaynd.

Long in that senseles sleepe congeald shee laye,
Untill euen now another heauenly eye,
And cleare as that which doth begett the daye,
and of a like reviuinge simpathy:

Did cast into my eyes a subtile beame,
Which peirieinge deepe, into my fancy went,
And did awake my muse out of her dreame,
and unto her new life and vertue lent:

Soe that shee now begins to raise her eyes
Which yett are dazled with her beautye's raye;
And to record her wonted melodyes,
Although at first shee bee not full so gaye.