| |
| I LONG to talk with some old lover’s ghost, | |
| Who died before the god of love was born: | |
| I cannot think that he, that then loved most, | |
| Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn. | |
| But since this god produced a destiny, | 5 |
| And that vice-nature, custom, lets it be, | |
| I must love her that loves not me. | |
| |
| Sure they which made him god meant not so much, | |
| Nor he in his young godhead practised it; | |
| But when an even flame two hearts did touch, | 10 |
| His office was indulgently to fit | |
| Actives to passives; correspondency | |
| Only his subject was; it cannot be | |
| Love, if I love who loves not me. | |
| |
| But every modern god will now extend | 15 |
| His vast prerogative as far as Jove; | |
| To rage, to lust, to write too, to commend; | |
| All is the purlieu of the god of love. | |
| O were we wakened by his tyranny | |
| To ungod this child again, it could not be | 20 |
| I should love her that loves not me. | |
| |
| Rebel and atheist, too, why murmur I, | |
| As though I felt the worst that love could do? | |
| Love may make me leave loving, or might try | |
| A deeper plague, to make her love me too, | 25 |
| Which, since she loves before, I am loath to see; | |
| Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be, | |
| If she whom I love should love me. | |
| |
