O, Spirit Of Love, How

But Most It Is Presumption In Us When The Help Of Heaven We Count The Act Of Men.

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

Is It Possible He Should Know What He Is, And Be That He Is?

Where Is Your Ancient Courage? You Were Used To Say Extremities Was The Trier Of Spirits; That Common Chances Common Men Could Bear; That When The Sea Was Calm All Boats Alike Showed Mastership In Floating.

Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make Thee Believe I Love.