A Dittie

John Lyly

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Behold her lockes like wiers of beaten gold,
her eyes like starres that twinkle in the skie,
Her heavenly face not framd of earthly molde,
Her voice that sounds Apollos melodie,
The miracle of time, the [whole] worlds storie,
Fortunes Queen, Loves treasure, Natures glory.

No flattering hope she likes, blind Fortunes bait
nor shadowes of delight, fond fansies glasse,
Nor charmes that do inchant, false artes deceit,
nor fading joyes, which time makes swiftly pas
But chast desires which beateth all these downe ;
A Goddesse looke is worth a Monarchs crowne.

Goddesse and Monarch of this happie Ile,
vouchsafe this bow which is an huntresse part :
Your eyes are arrows though they seeme to smile
which never glanst but gald the stateliest hart,
Strike one, strike all, for none at all can flie,
They gaze you in the face although they die.

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