273. Wherein He Bitterly Recalls His Blindness at Farewell -
WHEREIN HE BITTERLY RECALLS HIS BLINDNESS AT FAREWELL
O mind, that of your doom aware — too late,
Chilled by the high hawk's shadow in the sun,
Devoured the lovely face you fixed upon
As though the hawk's plunge to anticipate!
From her dear ways, words, looks compassionate,
From strange and sudden tenderness of tone
You should have known, alas, you should have known
This was Love's final fierce pontificate!
O miserable soul! O poison sweet
That through my eyes engendered this bright death,
Gazing on hers I shall no longer greet!
I left with them my lavish blood and breath,
As with a friend condemned to no returning
We leave the thought unspoken, the heart burning.
O mind, that of your doom aware — too late,
Chilled by the high hawk's shadow in the sun,
Devoured the lovely face you fixed upon
As though the hawk's plunge to anticipate!
From her dear ways, words, looks compassionate,
From strange and sudden tenderness of tone
You should have known, alas, you should have known
This was Love's final fierce pontificate!
O miserable soul! O poison sweet
That through my eyes engendered this bright death,
Gazing on hers I shall no longer greet!
I left with them my lavish blood and breath,
As with a friend condemned to no returning
We leave the thought unspoken, the heart burning.
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