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My love is of
a birth as rare
As 'tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by Despair
Upon
Impossibility.Magnanimous
Despair alone
Could
show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could
ne'er have flown
But vainly flapped its tinsel wing.
And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended
soul is fixed,
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt.
For Fate with
jealous eye does see
Two perfect loves; nor lets them
close:
Their union would her ruin be,
And her
tyrannic pow'r depose.
And therefore her decrees
of steel
Us and the distant poles have placed
(Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel)
Not by
themselves to be embraced.
Unless the giddy
heaven fall,
And earth some new convulsion tear;
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramped into
a planishpere.
As lines so loves oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet:
But ours so truly
parallel,
Though infinite can never meet.
Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so
enviously debars,
Is the conjunction of the mind,
And opposition of the stars.
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