To CASTARA, Looking upon him.

TRansfix me with that flaming dart,
I…h' eye, or brest or any part,
So thou, Ca…ta…a, spare my heart.

The cold Cym…rian by th…t bright
Warm… wound▪ ith' darknesse of his night,
Might both recover heat, and light.

The rugged Scythian gently move,
Ith' whispering shadow of some gro…e,
That's consecrate to sportive Love.

December see the Prim rose grow,
The Rivers in soft murmurs flow,
And from his head shake off h…s snow.

And crooked age might feele againe
Those heates of which youth did complaine,
While fresh blood swels each withered veyne.

For the bright lustre of thy eyes▪
Which but …o warme them would suffice,
May burne me to a s…crifice.