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.