Page 140
On sight of a Gentlewomans face in the water.
STand still you floods, doe not deface
That Image which you bear:
So Votaries from every place,
To you shall Altars roare.
No winds but Lovers sighs blow here
To trouble these glad streames,
On which no starre from any Sphere
Did ever dart such beames.
To Christall then in haste congeal,
Left you should lose your bliss:
And to my cruell fair reveal,
How cold, how hard she is.
But if the envious Nymphs shall fear
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
And hire the ruder winds to tear
That face which you adorn'd,
Then rage and foam amain, that we
Their malice may despise:
And from your froath we soon shall see,
A second Venus rise.