Love the Wanderer
In the mid hours of the night when the Bear had turned around the hand of Bootes, and all the race of those who have speech lay silent, crafty Love beat on the fastenings of my door. I called out: " Who knocks at my door? Who are you who break my dreams? "
And Love said: " Open! It is a child, do not be afraid. I am drenched with wandering in the moonless night. "
Hearing this I was moved by pity; then I kindled a torch and opened the door and saw a winged child, carrying a bow and quiver. By the hearth he stretched out the palms of his hands to the fire and pressed the water from his hair.
When he was free of cold he said: " Let me try my bow and see if the wet has spoiled the string. " He drew it and struck me in the heart like a sting.
Then, mocking, he sprang away and said: " O friend, rejoice! My bow is unhurt, for you are stabbed to the heart. "
And Love said: " Open! It is a child, do not be afraid. I am drenched with wandering in the moonless night. "
Hearing this I was moved by pity; then I kindled a torch and opened the door and saw a winged child, carrying a bow and quiver. By the hearth he stretched out the palms of his hands to the fire and pressed the water from his hair.
When he was free of cold he said: " Let me try my bow and see if the wet has spoiled the string. " He drew it and struck me in the heart like a sting.
Then, mocking, he sprang away and said: " O friend, rejoice! My bow is unhurt, for you are stabbed to the heart. "
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