William Drummond - Poems: The First Part XXVI lyrics

Trust not, sweet soul, those curled waves of gold, With gentle tides which on your temples flow, Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow, Nor snow of cheeks with Tyrian grain enroll'd; Trust not those shining lights which wrought my woe, When first I did their burning rays behold, Nor voice, whose sounds more strange effects do show Than of the Thracian harper have been told. Look to this dying lily, fading rose, Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams Made all the neighbouring herbs and gra** rejoice, And think how little is 'twixt life's extremes: The cruel tyrant that did k** those flow'rs, Shall once, ay me! not spare that spring of yours.