306. Wherein, While Asleep, He Tells His Lady of His Torment and Is Awakened by Her Pity -
WHEREIN, WHILE ASLEEP, HE TELLS HIS LADY OF HIS TORMENT AND IS AWAKENED BY HER PITY
The sacred gust my long-afflicted slumber
Disturbs so gently, courage waxes double
To tell her of my past and present trouble,
With which I dared not, while she lived, encumber
Her heart: the first fierce look of Love's proud number
I publish, that first glance which burned to stubble
My green years; then, how bubble after bubble
Love burst, and how life daily grew more somber.
She speaks no word, but with the dew of pity
Fastens her eyes on me and moans a little,
While true tears fall... O Princess of God's City,
My spirit, which your sorrow breaks, turns brittle
With bitter salt and writhes to see you weeping
And to itself returns, wrenched from its sleeping!
The sacred gust my long-afflicted slumber
Disturbs so gently, courage waxes double
To tell her of my past and present trouble,
With which I dared not, while she lived, encumber
Her heart: the first fierce look of Love's proud number
I publish, that first glance which burned to stubble
My green years; then, how bubble after bubble
Love burst, and how life daily grew more somber.
She speaks no word, but with the dew of pity
Fastens her eyes on me and moans a little,
While true tears fall... O Princess of God's City,
My spirit, which your sorrow breaks, turns brittle
With bitter salt and writhes to see you weeping
And to itself returns, wrenched from its sleeping!
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