To a Friend Inquiring Her Name, Whom He Loved
To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved.
Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise
From view, if he but covered lies,
Ith' veile of my transparent eyes.
Though in a smile himselfe he hide,
Or in a sigh, thou art so tride
In all his arts, hee'le be discride.
I must confesse (Deare friend) my flame,
Whose boasts Castara so doth tame,
That not thy faith, shall know her name.
Twere prophanation of my zeale,
If but abroad one whisper steale,
They love betray who him reveale.
In a dark cave which never eye
Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise
From view, if he but covered lies,
Ith' veile of my transparent eyes.
Though in a smile himselfe he hide,
Or in a sigh, thou art so tride
In all his arts, hee'le be discride.
I must confesse (Deare friend) my flame,
Whose boasts Castara so doth tame,
That not thy faith, shall know her name.
Twere prophanation of my zeale,
If but abroad one whisper steale,
They love betray who him reveale.
In a dark cave which never eye