Fontinella[1] To Florinda

When on my bosom thy bright eyes,         Florinda, dart their heavenly beams,     I feel not the least love surprise,         Yet endless tears flow down in streams;     There's nought so beautiful in thee,         But you may find the same in me.     The lilies of thy skin compare;         In me you see them full as white:     The roses of your cheeks, I dare         Affirm, can't glow to more delight.     Then, since I show as fine a face,         Can you refuse a soft embrace?     Ah! lovely nymph, thou'rt in thy prime!         And so am I, while thou art here;     But soon will come the fatal time,         When all we see shall disappear.     'Tis mine to make a just reflection,         And yours to follow my direction.     Then catch admirers while you may;         Treat not your lovers with disdain;     For time with beauty flies away,         And there is no return again.     To you the sad account I bring,         Life's autumn has no second spring.