A flame of loue that glaunceth in those eyes,
Where maiestie with sweetnesse mixt remaines,
Doth poure so sweet a poyson in the veines,
That who them viewes straight wounded wondring dyes.
But yet who would not looke on those cleare skies,
And loue to perish with so pleasant paines,
While as those lights of loue hide beauties traine
With iuorie Orbes, where still two starres arise:
When as those christall Comets whiles appeare,
Eye-rauish'd I go gazing on their rayes,
Whil'st they enrich'd with many princely prayes,
Ore hosts of hearts triumphing still retire:
Those planets when they shine in their owne kinds,
Do boast t'orethrow whole monarchies of minds.