And on that weak reflection feast.

If creatures then that have no sense,

But the loose tie of influence,

Though fate and time each day remove

Those things that element their love,

At such vast distance can agree,

Why, Amoret, why should not we?

[17]

A SONG TO AMORET.

If I were dead, and in my place

Some fresher youth design'd

To warm thee with new fires, and grace

Those arms I left behind;

Were he as faithful as the sun,

That's wedded to the sphere;

His blood as chaste and temp'rate run,

As April's mildest tear;

Or were he rich, and with his heaps

And spacious share of earth,

Could make divine affection cheap,

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