I SAW fair Chloris walk alone,
When featherd rain came softly down,
As Jove descending
from his Tower
To court her in a silver shower:
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
Like pretty birds into
But, overcome with whiteness there,
For grief it thawd into a tear:
Thence falling on her garments
To deck her, froze into a gem.
WHEN whispering strains do softly steal
With creeping passion through the heart
And when at
every touch we feel
Our pulses beat and bear a part;
When threads can make
A heartstring shake
The soul consists of harmony.
When unto heavenly joy we feign
Whateer the soul affecteth most,
Which only thus we can
By music of the wingàed host,
Whose lays we think
Make stars to wink,
Can scarce deny
souls consist of harmony.
O lull me, lull me, charming air,
My senses rock with wonder sweet;
Like snow on wool thy
Soft, like a spirits, are thy feet:
Grief who need fear
That hath an ear?
Down let him lie
And change his soul for harmony.
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