There were no heaven but for lovers' eyes;
Save in their depths do all Elysiums fade;
And gods were dead but for the life that lies
In kisses sweet on sweeter altars laid.
There were no heroes did not lovers ride,
And pyramid high deeds upon new time;
Nor tale for feast, or field, or chimney-side,
And harps were dumb and song had ne'er a rhyme.
Then live, proud heart, in happy fealty,
Nor sigh thee more thy dear bonds to remove;
Thou art not thrall to liege of mean degree,
For all are kings who bear the lance of love;
No wight so poor but may his tatters lose,
And find his purple if his lady choose.