And, if love no such garments have,
My mind a wardrobe is so brave,30
That there sufficient he may see
To clothe Impossibility.
Then beamy fetters he shall find,
By admiration subt'ly twin'd,
That will keep fast the wanton'st thought,35
That e'er imagination wrought:
There he shall find of joy a chain,
Fram'd by despair of her disdain,
So curiously that it can't tie
The smallest hopes that thoughts now spy.40
There acts, as glorious as the sun,
Are by her veneration spun,
In one of which I would have brought
A pure, unspotted, abstract thought,
Considering her as she is good,45
Not in her frame of flesh and blood.
These atoms then, all in her sight,
I bad him join, that so he might
Discern between true love's creation,
And that love's form that's now in fashion.50
Love, granting unto my request,
Began to labour in my breast;
But, with the motion he did make,
It heav'd so high that she did wake,
Blush'd at the favour she had done,55
Then smil'd, and then away did run.
SONG
The crafty boy that had full oft assay'd
To pierce my stubborn and resisting breast,
But still the bluntness of his darts betray'd,
Resolv'd at last of setting up his rest,
Either my wild unruly heart to tame,5
Or quit his godhead, and his bow disclaim.
So all his lovely looks, his pleasing fires;
All his sweet motions, all his taking smiles;
All that awakes, all that inflames desires,
All that sweetly commands, all that beguiles,10
He does into one pair of eyes convey,
And there begs leave that he himself may stay.
