That Medo-Persic law of Love!
It hath in God himself its spring,
And is like God, a holy thing.
They that love on, and love through all,
Though fortune lower, and fate appal;
The wife that wed in happy day,
Loves still when clouds come o’er the way;
The manly heart, that ne’er so warm,
Gives his own breast to brave the storm,
So he may shield her faded form;