Come, come thou glorious object of my sight;
O my joy, my life, my delight,
Let this encounter be,
In spite of fortune free.

See how the twinkling tapers of the sky
Do wonder at our constancy;
How they crowd to behold what our arms do enfold,
How all do envy our felicity.

Look, O look how the small lights do fall,
And adore what before
The heavens have not shown,
Nor the first stars known:

Such a faith, such a love, 
As may move mighty Jove from above
To descend and remain
Among mortals again.