IV.
Virtue! Alas, now let me take some rest.
Thou sett'st a bate between my will and wit:
If vain love have my simple soul opprest;
Leave what thou lik'st not! deal not thou with it
Thy sceptre use in some old CATO's breast:
Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit.
I do confess, pardon a fault confest!
My mouth too tender is for thy hard bit.
But if that needs thou wilt usurping be
The little reason that is left in me;
And still th'effect of thy persuasions prove:
I swear my heart, such one shall show to thee,
That shrines in flesh so true a deity;
That VIRTUE! thou thyself shalt be in love!
V.
It is most true—that eyes are formed to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be King; from whose rules, who doth swerve,
(Rebels to Nature) strive for their own smart:
It is most true—what we call CUPID's dart,
An image is; which for ourselves we carve,
And, fools! adore, in temple of our heart;
Till that good GOD make church and churchman starve:
True—that true beauty, Virtue is indeed;
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed:
True—that on earth, we are but pilgrims made;
And should in soul, up to our country move:
True—and yet true, that I must STELLA love.
