When night's black Mantle could most darkness prove,
And sleepe (d**hs Image) did my senses hyre,
From Knowledge of my selfe, then thoughts did move
Swifter than those, most switnesse neede require?
In sleepe, a chariot drawn by wind'd Desire,
I saw; where sate bright Venus, Queen of Love,
And at her feete her Sonne, still adding Fire
To burning hearts, which she did hold above,
But one heart flaming more than all the rest,
The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast,
Dear Sonne, now shut, said she, thus must we winne.
He her obey'd, and martyr'd my poore heart.
I waking hop'd as dreams it would depart,
Yet since, O me, a Lover have I beene.