Part 6 (1/2)

If, Amoret, that glorious eye, In the first birth of light, And death of Night, Had with those elder fires you spy Scatter'd so high, Received form and sight;

We might suspect in the vast ring, Amidst these golden glories, And fiery stories;[49]

Whether the sun had been the king And guide of day, Or your brighter eye should sway.

But, Amoret, such is my fate, That if thy face a star Had s.h.i.+n'd from far, I am persuaded in that state, 'Twixt thee and me, Of some predestin'd sympathy.[50]

For sure such two conspiring minds, Which no accident, or sight, Did thus unite; Whom no distance can confine, Start, or decline, One for another were design'd.

FOOTNOTES:

[49] MS.

MS. _We may suspect in the vast ring_, _Which rolls those fiery spheres_ _Thro' years and years._

[50] MS. _There would be perfect sympathy._

TO AMORET GONE FROM HIM.

Fancy and I, last evening, walk'd, And Amoret, of thee we talk'd; The West just then had stolen the sun, And his last blushes were begun: We sate, and mark'd how everything Did mourn his absence: how the spring That smil'd and curl'd about his beams, Whilst he was here, now check'd her streams: The wanton eddies of her face Were taught less noise, and smoother grace; And in a slow, sad channel went, Whisp'ring the banks their discontent: The careless ranks of flowers that spread Their perfum'd bosoms to his head.

And with an open, free embrace, Did entertain his beamy face, Like absent friends point to the West, 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?

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 s.p.a.cious share of earth, Could make divine affection cheap, And court his golden birth:

For all these arts I'd not believe, --No, though he should be thine-- The mighty amorist could give So rich a heart as mine.

Fortune and beauty thou might'st find, And greater men than I: But my true resolved mind They never shall come nigh.[51]

For I not for an hour did love, Or for a day desire, But with my soul had from above This endless, holy fire.

FOOTNOTES:

[51]

MS. _But with my true steadfast minde_ _None can pretend to vie._

AN ELEGY.

'Tis true, I am undone: yet, ere I die, I'll leave these sighs and tears a legacy To after-lovers: that, rememb'ring me, Those sickly flames which now benighted be, Fann'd by their warmer sighs, may love; and prove In them the metempsychosis of love.