To Amoret.

AMoret, the milky way,
Fram'd of many nameless stars,
The smooth stream where none can say,
He this drop to that prefers;

Amoret, my lovely foe,
Tell me where thy strength does lie;
Where the power that charms us so,
In thy Soul, or in thy eye?

By that snowy neck alone,
Or thy grace in motion seen,
No such wonders could be done:
Yet thy wast is streight and clean,
As Cupids shafr, or Hermas rod,
And powerful too, as either God.