Chapter XLVI

Oh yes! for it was born above,
That Medo-Persic law of Love!
It hath in God himself its spring,
And is like God, a holy thing.
They that love on, and love through all,
Though fortune lower, and fate appal;
The wife that wed in happy day,
Loves still when clouds come o’er the way;
The manly heart, that ne’er so warm,
Gives his own breast to brave the storm,
So he may shield her faded form;
These loving spirits—think ye these
Well moor’d at length in calmer seas,
And brighter, fairer, blest above,
Will love the less, where all is love?
Oh, there upon that happy shore
They wed, and give away no more,
But angel-lovers, they abide,
And roam the blissful regions wide,
In love sublimed and purified.