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,
Receivèd form and sight;
We might suspect in the vast ring,
Amidst these golden glories,
And fiery stories;
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 shin'd from far,
I am persuaded in that state,
'Twixt thee and me,
Of some predestin'd sympathy.
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.