56. To a Friend, Wherein, Though Worn to a Shadow -
TO A FRIEND, WHEREIN, THOUGH WORN TO A SHADOW, THE POET PROTESTS LOVE'S SERVITUDE IS SWEET
Love, with his promises and flattery,
Seduced me back to the old prison cell,
And gave the keys to that dear sentinel
Who still divides my proper self from me.
Alas! I dreamed not of his subtlety
Until in Love's and Laura's hands I fell,
(Who will believe it, though I swear it well?)
Now heavy are the sighs that set me free.
And like a veritable captive smitten,
Of my harsh chains the greater part I carry,
And in my eyes and on my heart stands written
My heart's high pangs which so my pale cheeks harry
That, seeing, you will sigh: " If right I trace,
Between this man and death how short a space! "
Love, with his promises and flattery,
Seduced me back to the old prison cell,
And gave the keys to that dear sentinel
Who still divides my proper self from me.
Alas! I dreamed not of his subtlety
Until in Love's and Laura's hands I fell,
(Who will believe it, though I swear it well?)
Now heavy are the sighs that set me free.
And like a veritable captive smitten,
Of my harsh chains the greater part I carry,
And in my eyes and on my heart stands written
My heart's high pangs which so my pale cheeks harry
That, seeing, you will sigh: " If right I trace,
Between this man and death how short a space! "
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