Sonnet XXVII: The Chrystal streames, wherein my love did

The Chrystal streames, wherein my love did swimme,
Melted in teares, as partners of my woe,
Her shine was such, as did the fountaine dimme;
The pearlike fountaine, whiter than the snowe,
Then lyke perfume, resolved with a heate,
The fountaine smoak'd, as if it thought to burne:
A woonder strange, to see the colde so great,
And yet the fountaine, into smoake to turne.
I searcht the cause, and found it to be this,
She toucht the water, and it burnt with love,
Now by her meanes, it purchast hath that blisse,
Which all diseases, quicklie can remoove.
Then if by you, these streames thus blessed be:
(Sweet) graunt me love, and be not woorse to me.