Heightned with which, my raptures shall commend,
How good Castara is, how deare my friend.
To Castara,
Where true happinesse abides.
Castara whisper in some dead mans eare,
This subtill quære; and hee'le point out where,
By answers negative, true joyes abide.
Hee'le say they flow not on th' uncertaine tide
Of greatnesse, they can no firme basis have,
Upon the trepidation of a wave.