To Sylvia Weeping

FAir Sylvia, you possess more Treasures than
The rubie East; those weeping eyes more Gems
Than the rich Store house of the Ocean,
For you at pleasure can those Chrystal streams
Which trickle from the fountaines of your eyes
Convert int' orient pearls; but richer prize.

What taking charmes lye in your sweeter Face,
When freed from cloudy-weeping Griefs you smile
With a clear brow! If tears with such a grace
Become? if so much lustre has the foile
To Beauty? what excess of Glory then
Will bud from those sweet lights when fair agen?

Now the (like silver'd Cynonthia's beauty, when
The interposing Earth hides her bright face)
Dost suffer an Ecclipse; thy tears restrain
Thy beauties radiant beams; Tears fill the place
Of bounteous Light; yet is that shadow fair;
Others with which (at best) may not compare.

Phoebus now hides behind a watery cloud
His brighter head; by which we better may
Gaze on his Light: thy suns (fair Sylvia) shroud
Themselves behind a cloud of Tears to day;
Our of like kindness, and suppress their bright
And splendid beams, to favour my weak sight.

Enough, fair Sylvia! clear those Cynthian Lights,
From that ecclipse of sorrow; wipe away
That hanging cloud of Tears; which still excites
Your stillborne Grief such pearly price to pay:
Were you enflam'd with scorching Love, as I,
Its ardor soon those dewy pearls would dry.

After Aurora with her silver showers
Has wash'd her Grandame Tellus chapped face,
A pleasant Zephyrus the dark Heaven scoures,
And Sol steps out with a far greater Grace:
After a Storm fair weather doth suceeed;
Let fable Grief your whiter Joys then breed.

I long to see those fairer Suns to shine,
Freed from the dewy moisture of a Tear,
Now they would seem (after this) more divine,
As Phaebus after an eclips more clear:
Let Day the Night succeed, and cease to mourn,
Banish Grief's night, whilst Joy's day takes its turn.