I. br br Sweet serene skye-like Flower, br Haste to adorn her Bower : br From thy long clowdy bed, br Shoot forth thy damaske head. br br II. br br New-startled blush of Flora ! br The griefe of pale Aurora, br Who will contest no more ; br Haste, haste, to strowe her floore. br br III. br br Vermilion Ball that's given br From lip to lip in Heaven ; br Love's Couches cover-led : br Haste, haste, to make her bed. br br IV. br br Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus, br And Jollie, plumpe Silenus ; br Haste, haste, to decke the Haire br Of th' only, sweetly Faire. br br V. br br See ! Rosie is her Bower, br Her floore is all this Flower ; br Her Bed a Rosie nest br By a Bed of Roses prest. br br VI. br br But early as she dresses, br Why fly you her bright Tresses ? br Ah ! I have found I feare ; br Because her Cheekes are neere.