Charles Cotton (1630–1687)

FAIR Isabel, if ought but thee

I could, or would, or like, or love;

If other beauties but approve

To sweeten my captivity:

I might those passions be above,

Those powerful passions that combine

To make and keep me only thine.

Or, if for tempting treasure I

Of the world’s god, prevailing gold,

Could see thy love, and my truth sold,

A greater, nobler treasury;

My flame to thee might then grow cold,

And I, like one whose love is sense,

Exchange thee for convenience.

But when I vow to thee, I do

Love thee above or health or peace,

Gold, joy, and all such toys as these,

’Bove happiness and honour too:

Thou then must know, this love can cease

Nor change, for all the glorious show

Wealth and discretion bribes us to.

What such a love deserves, thou, sweet,

As knowing best, may’st best reward;

I for thy bounty well prepared,

With open arms my blessing meet.

Then do not, dear, our joys detard;

But unto him propitious be,

That knows no love, nor life, but thee.