An Epicurean Ode

Since that this thing we call the world
By chance on Atomes is begot,
Which though in dayly motions hurl'd,
Yet weary not,
How doth it prove
Thou art so fair and I in Love?

Since that the soul doth onely lie
Immers'd in matter, chain'd in sense,
How can Romira thou and I
With both dispence,
And thus ascend
In higher flights then wings can lend?

Since man's but pasted up of Earth,
And ne're was cradled in the skies,
What Terra Lemnia gave thee birth?
What Diamond eyes?
Or thou alone
To tell what others were, came down?