I
Nature had long a treasure made
Of all her choicest store;
Fearing, when she should be decayed,
To beg in vain for more.

2
Her orientest colours there,
And essences most pure,
With sweetest perfumes hoarded were,
All, as she thought, secure.

3
She seldom them unlocked, or used,
But with the nicest care;
For, with one grain of them diffused,
She could the world repair.

4
But likeness soon together drew
What she did sep'rate lay;
Of which one perfect beauty grew,
And that was Celia.

5
Love wisely had of long foreseen
That he must once grow old;
And therefore stored a magazine,
To save him from the cold.

6
He kept the several cells replete
With nitre thrice refined;
The naphtha's and the sulphur's heat,
And all that burns the mind.

7
He fortified the double gate,
And rarely thither came;
For, with one spark of these, he straight
All Nature could inflame.

8
Till, by vicinity so long,
A nearer way they sought;
And, grown magnetically strong,
Into each other wrought.

9
Thus all his fuel did unite
To make one fire high:
None ever burned so hot, so bright:
And, Celia, that am I.

10
So we alone the happy rest,
Whilst all the world is poor,
And have within ourselves possessed
All Love's and Nature's store.