THE GOLDEN NET

Three Virgins at the break of day: “Whither, young Man, whither away? Alas for woe! alas for woe!” They cry, & tears for ever flow. The one was Clothd in flames of fire, The other Clothd in iron wire, The other Clothd in tears & sighs Dazling bright before my Eyes. They bore a Net of golden twine To hang upon the Branches fine. Pitying I wept to see the woe That Love & Beauty undergo, To be consumd in burning Fires And in ungratified desires, And in tears clothd Night & day Melted all my Soul away. When they saw my Tears, a Smile That did Heaven itself beguile, Bore the Golden Net aloft As on downy Pinions soft Over the Morning of my day. Underneath the Net I Stray: Now intreating Burning Fire, Now intreating Iron Wire, Now intreating Tears & Sighs. O when will the morning rise?