A Paradox

Whoso terms Love a fire, may like a poet
Feign what he will, for certain cannot show it;
For fire ne’er burns but when the fuel’s near,
But Love doth at most distance most appear;
Yet out of fire water did never go ;
But tears from Love abundantly do flow;
Fire still mounts upward, but Love oft descendeth ;
Fire leaves the midst, Love to the centre tendeth ;
Fire drys and hardens, Love doth mollify;
Fire doth consume, but Love doth fructify.
     The powerful Queen of Love (fair Venus) came,
Descended from the sea, not from the flame;
Whence passions ebb and flow, and from the brain
Run to the heart, like streams, and back again.
Yea Love oft fills men’s breasts with melting snow,
Drowning their love-sick minds in floods of woe.
What, is Love water, then? it may be so ;
But he saith truest that saith he doth not know.