Lord Herbert of Cherbury (1583–1648)

WALKING thus towards a pleasant grove,

Which did, it seemed, in new delight

The pleasures of the time unite

To give a triumph to their love,—

They staid at last, and on the grass

Reposèd so as o’er his breast

She bowed her gracious head to rest,

Such a weight as no burden was.

Long their fixed eyes to heaven bent,

Unchanged they did never move,

As if so great and pure a love

No glass but it could represent.

“These eyes again thine eyes shall see,

Thy hands again these hands infold,

And all chaste pleasures can be told

Shall with us everlasting be.

Let then no doubt, Celinda, touch,

Much less your fairest mind invade;

Were not our souls immortal made,

Our equal loves can make them such.”