Poems written by A. Cowley.

My Heart discovered▪

HEr body is so gently bright, Clear, and transparent to the sight, (Clear as sair Cristal to the view, Yet soft as that, ere Stone it grew,) That through her flesh, methinks, is seen The brighter Soul that dwells within: Our eyes the subtile covering pass, And see that Lilie through it's Glass. I through her Breast her Heart espy, As Souls in hearts do Souls descry, I see't with gentle Motions beat; I see Light in't, but find no Heat. Within, like Angels in the sky, A thousand guilded thoughts do fly: Thoughts of bright and noblest kind, Fair and chaste, as Mother-Mind. But, oh, what other Heart is there, Which sighs and crouds to hers so neere? 'Tis all on flame, and does like fire, To that, as to it's Heaven, aspire, The wounds are many in't and deep; Still does it bleed, and still does weep. Whose ever wretched Heart it be, I cannot choose but grieve to see; What pitty in my Breast does raign? Methinks I feel too all it's pain. So torn, and so defac'd it lyes, That it could ne're be known by th'eyes; But, oh, at last I heard it grone, And knew by th'Voyce that 'twas mine owne. So poor Alcione, when she saw A shipwrackt body tow'ards her draw Beat by the waves, let fall a Tear, Which onely then did Pitty wear:

But when the Corps on shore were cast, Which she her Husband found at last; What should the wretched widow do? Grief chang'd her strait; away she flew, Turn'd to a Bird: and so at last shall I, Both from my Murther'd Heart, and Murth'rer fly.