Again my lamp is burning dim,
Again the weary wick I trim,
And yet my sweet delays.
By the great queen of love she swore
To-night would see her at my door
But now she heedless stays.
Ah, would the flame that burns my breast
Might with my lamp sink soft to rest!
Fie on boys! In women's arms
We shall find more lasting charms.
Nor do I love the hair that shows
All too soon on cheeks of rose.
Youths have lost their beauty when
They begin to look like men.
Alas, that hate should bar our whispers sweet,
The stolen looks wherein our eyes would meet.
Your jealous nurse still makes us both afraid,
Like Argus watching o'er the heifer maid.
Stand there and spy; you vex yourself in vain;
No eye, old hag, can reach the soul's domain.
" Scorn endeth love," last night she cried,
As in my face she slammed the door.
Oh foolish words, by truth denied;
Scorn makes men love the more.
I said I'd stay a year away,
A suppliant I return to-day.
The blaze that scorched my flesh of old
Is quenched and dim: I die of cold.
Love's furnace panting in its greed
Has now but bones whereon to feed,
And my poor heart, to ashes turned,
Has naught within it left unburned.
E'en as some altar at the close of day,
Its victim spent, untended dies away.
Come, rose, one stolen kiss
Love's secret furtive bliss
Far from all prying eyes.
The garish light of day
Takes half the charm away
From love's sweet mysteries.
Bold love has led me here;
So let me in, I pray,
If my love sleeps alone;
If not I'll go away.
And give this token of my passion true:
" Reeling with wine, through thieves I came to you."
The sound of Love still rings within my ears,
Still from my eyes in silence flow sweet tears,
Nor night nor day can give my anguish rest;
Love charms have fixed one thought within my breast.
O winged fancies, are your wings in vain,
Have you no strength to fly from me again?
Leontis here to Venus brings
Her cither with its tuneful strings
In memory of the night
When golden Sthenius with her lay
In happy vigil till the day
Surprised them with his light.