The Bookshelf

Cupid lay by his brand, and fell asleep:

A maid of Dian's this advantage found,

And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep

In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;

Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love

A dateless lively heat, still to endure,

And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove

Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.

But as my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fir'd,

The boy for tial needs would touch my breast;

I, sick withal, the help of bath desir'd,

And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,

But found no cure: the bath for my help lies

Where Cupid got new fire, -- my mistress' eyes.