From the besieged Ardea all in post,
Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,
Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host,
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire
And girdle with embracing flames the waist
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.
Haply that name of chaste unhappily set
This edge on his keen appetite;
When Collatine unwisely did not let
To praise the clear unmatched red and white
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties,
With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.
For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Unlocked the treasure of his happy state;
What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
In the possession of his beauteous mate;
Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate
That kings might be espoused to more fame,
But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
O happiness enjoyed but of a few!
And, if possessed, as soon decayed and done
As is the morning silver-melting dew
Against the golden splendour of the sun!
An expired date, cancelled ere well begun:
Honor and beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortressed from a world of harms.
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
The eyes of men without an orator;
What need then apology be made,
Or why is Collatine the publisher
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
From thievish ears, because it is his own?

      
