Classic Poem

I

Dark was the silent shade, that hid
The fair Castanna from my sight:
The Night was black (as it had need,
That could obscure so great a light).
Under the concave of each lid
A flaming ball of beauty bright,
Wrapt in a charming slumber lay,
That else would captivate the day.

II

Led by a passionate desire
I boldly did attempt the way;
And, though my dull eies wanted fire,
My seeing soul knew where shee lay.
Thus, whilst I blindly did aspire,
Fear to displeas her made mee stay,
A doubt too weak for mine intent;
I knew, shee would forgive, and went.

III

Neer to her Mayden-bed I drew
(Blest in so rare a chance as this)
When by her odorous breath I knew
I did approach my Love, my Blisse.
Then did I eagerly pursue
My hopes, and found, and stole a kisse:
Such, as perhaps Pygmalion took,
When cold his ivorie-Love forsook.

IV

Soft was the sleep sat on her eies,
As softest doun, or whitest snow,
So gentle rest upon them lies,
Happy to charm those beauties so;
For which a thousand-thousand dies,
Or living live in restlesse woe.
For, all, that see her killing eye,
With love, or admiration die.

V

Chast were the thoughts, that had the power
To make mee hazard this offence:
I markt the sleeps of this fair flowr,
And found them full of innocense:
Wondring that hers, who slew each hour,
Should have so undisturb'd a sense.
But, ah! these murders of mankinde
Fly from her beautie, not her minde.

VI

Thus, while shee sweetly slept, sate I
Contemplating that lovely Mayd,
Of every tear, and every sigh
That sallied from my breast, afraid.
And now the Morning-star drew nigh,
When, fearing thus to be betray'd,
I softly from my Nymph did move
Wounded with everlasting love.