'Tis true the beauteous star To which I first did bow Burnt quicker, brighter far Than that which leads me now; Which shines with more delight; For gazing on that light So long near lost my sight. Through foul we follow fair, For had the world one face, And earth been bright as air, We had known neither place: Indians smell not their nest; A Swiss or Finn tastes best The spices of the East. So from the glorious sun, Who to his height hath got, With what delight we run To some black cave or grot! And heav'nly Sidney you Twice read, had rather view Some odd romance so new. The god that constant keeps Unto his deities Is poor in joys, and sleeps Imprison'd in the skies: This knew the wisest, who From Juno stole, below To love a bear or cow. |