172 LOVE'S DEITY
I LONG to talk with some old lover's ghost,
Who died before the god of love was born:
I cannot think that he, that then loved most,
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn.
But since this god produced a destiny,
And that vice-nature, custom, lets it be,
I must love her that loves not me.
Sure they which made him god meant not so much,
Nor he in his young godhead practised it;
But when an even flame two hearts did touch,
His office was indulgently to fit
Actives to passives; correspondency
Only his subject was; it cannot be
Love, if I love who loves not me.
But every modern god will now extend
His vast prerogative as far as Jove;
To rage, to lust, to write too, to commend;
All is the purlieu of the god of love.
O were we wakened by his tyranny
To ungod this child again, it could not be
I should love her that loves not me.
Rebel and atheist, too, why murmur I,
As though I felt the worst that love could do?
Love may make me leave loving, or might try
A deeper plague, to make her love me too,
Which, since she loves before, I am loath to see,
Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be,
If she whom I love should love me.