When flowing cups pass swiftly round With no allaying Thames. - Richard Lovelace

If to be absent were to be
Away from thee;
Or that when I am gone,
You and I were alone;
Then, my Lucasta, might I crave
Pity from blust'ring wind, or swallowing wave.

When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,
The gods that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

Then Love, I beg, when next thou takest thy bow,
Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go,
Pass rascal deer, strike me the largest doe.