Love, then unstinted, Love did sip, And cherries plucked fresh from the lip; On cheeks and roses free he fed; Lasses like autumn plums did drop, And lads indifferently did crop A flower and a maidenhead.
Love Made in the First Age: To Chloris (l. 13–18).
Poor verdant fool, and now green ice! thy joys, Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass, Bid us lay in ‘gainst winter rain, and poise Their floods with an o’erflowing glass.
Oh, could you view the melody Of every grace And music of her face, You'd drop a tear; Seeing more harmony In her bright eye Than now you hear.
Orpheus to Beasts. Compare: "There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument; for there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres", Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, Part ii, Section ix; "The mind, the music breathing from her face", Lord Byron, Bride of Abydos (1813), canto i, stanza 6.
When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The gods that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty.
To Althea: From Prison, st. 4.
Then Love, I beg, when next thou takest thy bow, Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go, Pass rascal deer, strike me the largest doe.