Chapter XIX

Is it then given to some, life’s happiest hours
To blissfully enjoy, in love’s delight?
Behold, ye gods! I look upon the sight!
I swoon and die, to feel that nature’s flowers
Do, in my own experience, their powers
Of giving fragrance lose within the night.
Yet would my heart reveal the lover’s plight,
And seek, in thy pursuit, celestial bowers.
Oh, tell me that thou art not cold and dumb
To my entreaties for one little part
Of what thou holdest in impiety!
Here at thy feet, I beg but for a crumb
Of love’s own comfort, for this aching heart,
That doth deserve its full satiety.