1.
‖: Come away; :‖ bring thy golden theft,
Bring, bright Prometheus, all thy lights;
Thy fires from heaven bereft
Shew now to human sights.
Come quickly, come; thy stars to our stars straight present,
For pleasure being too much deferred loseth her best content.
What fair dames wish, should swift as their own thoughts appear;
To loving and to longing hearts every hour seems a year.
2.
‖: See how fair, :‖ O how fair they shine!
What yields more pomp beneath the skies?
Their birth is yet divine,
And such their form implies.
Large grow their beams, their near approach afford them so
By nature; sights that pleasing are, cannot too amply show.
O might these flames in human shapes descend this place,
How lovely would their presence be, how full of grace!