by John Lyly

A SONG of DAPHNE to the Lute.
Apollo. MY Daphne's Haire is twisted Gold,
Bright starres a-piece her Eyes doe hold,
My Daphne's Brow inthrones the Graces,
My Daphne's Beauty staines all Faces,
On Daphne's Cheeke grow Rose and Cherry,
On Daphne's Lip a sweeter Berry,
Daphne's snowy Hand but touch'd does melt,
And then no heauenlier Warmth is felt,
My Daphne's voice tunes all the Spheres,
My Daphne's Musick charmes all Eares.
Fond am I thus to sing her prayse ;
These glories now are turn'd to Bayes.


Bond, R. Warwick, M.A. The Complete Works of John Lyly, Vol III.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1902, 1967 repr., p. 142

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Created by Anniina Jokinen on October 24, 1996. Last updated on March 2, 2007.