Chapter I

Thou tak'st no heed of me, I am as naught to thee; Cruel Beloved, arise! Lovely and languid thou, Sleep still upon thy brow, Dreams in thine eyes. From out thy garment flows Fragrance of many a rose-- Airs of delight Caught in the moonlit hours Lying among the flowers Through the long night. Look on my face how pale! Will naught my love avail? Naught my desire? Hold it as gold that is Cleansed of impurities Tried in the fire. Pity my heart distrest, Caught by that loveliest Tress of thine hair, So that I fear the shade Even by thine eyebrows made O'er eyes so fair.

ABRU.