Writ on Clarastella's Busk

Might I o' nights in thy room lie
'Twixt Stella's warmer mounts of snow,
So neer her heart dissolving, I
No higher Paradise would know:
Such envi'd bliss would make me stray,
Whither the Gods themselves would bow,
And leave heav'ns upper milkie way,
To breath in happier shades below.