Chapter XII

O LOVE, to thee I own, I wept in Night's dark Thought;
But now thy radiant Sun to me hath bright Day brought.
O SOUL of my own Soul, my I as I am Thou:
Thou art the All, and I in thee have all I sought.
Thou art Life's Sweetness self, Intoxication full,—
The brimming Sea of Pearls, the Gold to pureness wrought.
Whoe'er approaches thee, must first his Soul resign;
He dies beneath thy frown, lives when thy Smile is caught.
Thy Favour thrills in fear the trembling Lover's heart,
Till comes thy Wrath and smites his Weakness into Naught.

Discordia Concors