Sions Sonets: Sonet 2

ILlustrious Bride, more radiant and more bright,
Then th'eye of Noon, thrice fairer then the light;
Thou dearest off-spring of my dying blood,
ad treasure of my soule, why hast thou stood
arching so long in those ambitious beames?
Come, come & coole thee in these silver streams!
nshade thy face, cast back those golden Locks,
And I will make thee Mistris of my Flocks.

O Thou, the Center of my choyce desires,
In whom I rest, in whom my soule respires;
Thou art the flowre of beauty, and I prize thee
Above the world, how e're the world despise thee:
The blinde imagines all things black by kinde;
Thou art as beautifull, as they are blinde:
And as the fairest troopes of Pharoes steeds
Exceed the rest, so Thou the rest exceeds.

THy cheek (the garden where fresh beauty plā
Her choicest flowers) no adorning wants;
There wants no relish of diviner grace,
To summe compleatnesse, in so sweet a face;
Thy Neck, without a blemish, without blot,
Than pearl's more orient, cleare from stain or spot;
Thy Gemms and Iewels, full of curious art,
Imply the sacred treasures of thy heart.

THe Sun-bright glory of thy resounding fame,
Addes glory, to the glory of thy Name;
The more's thy honor (Love) the more thou striv'st
To honour me; thou gainest what thou giv'st:
My Father (whom our Contract hath made thine)
Will give thee large endowments of divine,
everlasting treasure; Thus by me
Thou shalt be rich, that am thus rich, in thee.