A New
BALLAD,
Composed by a Lover, in
praise of his Mistriss.
To a new Tune, Ile fix my Fancy
on thee.
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WHen first thy Feature and thy face,
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I seriously espyed,
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I thought to thee there was no Grace,
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which Nature had denyed:
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The more I lookd, the more I lovd,
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contemplating upon thee,
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At length the force of love me mov[]d
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to fix my fancy on thee.
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Thy Headis as the highest sphere,
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adornd with all the Graces,
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Thy Soul sits as Commander there,
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orspread with dangling Traces;
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Which through the Casements of thine Eyes
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sends forth such flames upon me,
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That I am forcd to sympathize,
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and fix my fancy on thee.
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Thy Nose below mount-fore-head lies,
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proportiond well by Nature,
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Which doth divide thy cristal Eyes,
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and makes a comelie Creature;
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Thy odoriferous Breath atracts
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my soul to cease upon thee,
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And since thou art without compare,
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I fix my fancy on thee,
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Thy Thighs as Ivory columns are,
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by Natures kind well framed,
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Betwixt there is a place I[]le spare,
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which shall not here be named;
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But surely it attractive is,
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which makes me think upon thee,
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But since thourt, mine I will design,
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to fix my fancy on thee.
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