Sweet Corrall lips, where Nature's treasure lies, The balme of blisse, the soveraigne salve of sorrow, The secret touch of loves heart-burning arrow, Come quench my thirst or els poor Daphnis dies. One night I dream'd (alas twas but a Dreame) That I did feele the sweetnes of the same, Where-with inspir'd, I young againe became, And from my heart a spring of blood did streame, But when I wak't, I found it nothing so, Save that my limbs (me thought) did waxe more strong And I more lusty far, and far more yong. This gift on him rich Nature did bestow. Then if in dreaming so, I so did speede, What should I doe, if I did so indeede? |