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SWeet smile,
the daughter of the Queene of loue,
Expressing all
thy mothers powrefull art:
with which she wonts to
temper angry loue,
when all the gods he threats with
thundring dart.
Sweet is thy vertue as thy selfe
sweet art,
for when on me thou shinedst late in
sadnesse:
a melting pleasance ran through euery
part,
and me reuiued with hart robbing gladnesse.
Whylest rapt with ioy resembling heauenly madnes,
my soule was rauisht quite as in a traunce:
and
feeling thence no more her sorowes sadnesse,
fed on
the fulnesse of that chearefull glaunce.
More sweet
than Nectar or Ambrosiall meat,
seemd euery bit,
which thenceforth I did eat.
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