| Come, for Heav'n's Turk a raid upon The Fast-tide's tray hath made |
|
|
| My heart from me's gone and fruition, My case to amend, cometh not |
|
|
| Days of union with the friends gone by, remembered |
|
|
| Easance and strength and sense from me ravished clean |
|
|
| Hilarious my heart is with wine And still I proclaim it on high |
|
|
| Come, for Hope's fortress-base Unstable as the sea is |
|
|
| My way, like the breeze, To the Loved One's abode I will make |
|
|
| O happy his heart is that after The lusts of the eye goeth not |
|
|
| My heart of thy lip desire fore'er hath |
|
|
| From the lasso of thy tress-tip Is deliverance for none |
|
|