Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 3, 12
Joy of my soule, my blindfold eyes cleere light,
Cordiall of hart, right Methridate of love,
Faire orient Pearle, bright shining Margarite,
Pure Quintessence of heavens delight above,
When shall I taste what favour graunts me tuch,
And ease the rage of mine so sharpe desire?
When shall I free enjoy what I so much
Doo covet, (but I doubt in vaine) to aspire?
Ah doo not still my Soule thus Tantalize,
But once (through grace) the same imparadize.
Cordiall of hart, right Methridate of love,
Faire orient Pearle, bright shining Margarite,
Pure Quintessence of heavens delight above,
When shall I taste what favour graunts me tuch,
And ease the rage of mine so sharpe desire?
When shall I free enjoy what I so much
Doo covet, (but I doubt in vaine) to aspire?
Ah doo not still my Soule thus Tantalize,
But once (through grace) the same imparadize.
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