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I.
Ah
LUCASTA, why so bright?
Spread with early streaked
light!
If still vailed from our sight,
What is't
but eternall night?
II.
Ah LUCASTA, why so
chaste?
With that vigour, ripenes grac't,
Not to
be by Man imbrac't
Makes that Royall coyne imbace't,
And this golden Orchard waste!
III.
Ah
LUCASTA, why so great,
That thy crammed coffers
sweat?
Yet not owner of a seat
May shelter you
from Natures heat,
And your earthly joyes compleat.
IV.
Ah Lucasta, why so good?
Blest with an
unstained flood
Flowing both through soule and blood;
If it be not understood,
'Tis a Diamond in mud.
V.
LUCASTA! stay! why dost thou flye?
Thou art
not bright but to the eye,
Nor chaste but in the
mariage-tye,
Nor great but in this treasurie,
Nor
good but in that sanctitie.
VI.
Harder then
the Orient stone,
Like an apparition,
Or as a pale
shadow gone,
Dumbe and deafe she hence is flowne.
VII.
Then receive this equall dombe:
Virgins,
strow no teare or bloome,
No one dig the Parian wombe;
Raise her marble heart i'th' roome,
And 'tis both her
coarse and tombe.
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