My vices cur'd by vertues sprung from thee,
My hopes reuiu'd, which long in graue had lyne:
All vncleane thoughts, foule spirits, cast out in mee
By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee.


Amour 13

Cleere _Ankor_, on whose siluer-sanded shore
My soule-shrinde Saint, my faire _Idea_, lyes;
O blessed Brooke! whose milk-white Swans adore
The christall streame refined by her eyes:
Where sweet Myrh-breathing _Zephyre_ in the spring
Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers;
Where Nightingales in _Arden_ sit and sing
Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers.
Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shall see thy Queene:
Loe! heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres,
And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been,
And heere to thee he sacrifiz'd his teares.
Fayre _Arden_, thou my _Tempe_ art alone,
And thou, sweet _Ankor_, art my _Helicon_.


Amour 14

Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries,
I see the ugly face of my deformed cares,
With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires,
That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes.