lirik lagu richard mitchley - sidney godolphin - wishes to his supposed mistress
who e’er she be
that not impossible she
that shall command my heart and me;
wher e’er she lie
lock’d up from mortal eye
in shady leaves of destiny;
till that ripe birth
of studied fate stand forth
and teach her fair steps to our earth;
till that divine
idea take a shrine
of crystal flesh, through which to shine;
meet you her, my wishes
bespeak her to my blisses
and be ye call’d my absent kisses
i wish her beauty
that owes not all his duty
to gaudy tire, or glist’ring shoe~ty
something more than
taffeta or tissue can
or rampant feather, or rich fan
more than the spoil
of shop, or silkworm’s toil
or a bought blush, or a set smile
a face that’s best
by its own beauty drest
and can alone command the rest
a face made up
out of no other shop
than what nature’s white hand sets ope
a cheek where youth
and blood, with pen of truth
write, what the reader sweetly ru’th
a cheek where grows
more than a morning rose
which to no box his being owes
lips, where all day
a lover’s kiss may play
yet carry nothing thence away
looks that oppress
their richest tires, but dress
and clothe their simplest nakedness
eyes, that displaces
the neighbour diamond, and outfaces
that sunshine, by their own sweet graces
tresses, that wear
jewels but to declare
how much themselves more precious are
whose native ray
can tame the wanton day
of gems, that in their bright shades play
each ruby there
or pearl that dare appear
be its own blush, be its own tear
a well~tam’d heart
for whose more n0ble smart
love may be long choosing a dart
eyes, that bestow
full quivers on love’s bow
yet pay less arrows than they owe
smiles, that can warm
the blood, yet teach a charm
that chastity shall take no harm
blushes, that bin
the burnish of no sin
nor flames of aught too hot within
joys, that confess
virtue their mistress
and have no other head to dress
fears, fond and flight
as the coy bride’s when night
first does the longing lover right
tears, quickly fled
and vain, as those are shed
for a dying maidenhead
days, that need borrow
no part of their good morrow
from a forespent night of sorrow
days, that in spite
of darkness, by the light
of a clear mind are day all night
nights, sweet as they
made short by lovers’ play
yet long by th’ absence of the day
life, that dares send
a challenge to his end
and when it comes say, “welcome friend.”
sidneian showers
of sweet discourse, whose powers
can crown old winter’s head with flowers
soft silken hours
open suns, shady bowers
’bove all, nothing within that lours
whate’er delight
can make day’s forehead bright
or give down to the wings of night
in her whole frame
have nature all the name
art and ornament the shame
her flattery
picture and poesy
her counsel her own virtue be
i wish, her store
of worth may leave her poor
of wishes, and i wish—no more
now if time knows
that her whose radiant brows
weave them a garland of my vows
her whose just bays
my future hopes can raise
a trophy to her present praise;
her that dares be
what these lines wish to see:
i seek no further, it is she
’tis she, and here
lo, i unclothe and clear
my wishes’ cloudy character
may she enjoy it
whose merit dare apply it
but modesty dares still deny it
such worth as this is
shall fix my flying wishes
and determine them to kisses
let her full glory
my fancies, fly before ye;
be ye my fictions; but her story
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