Now by your love am I restored,
But ask me not for love's reward.
I am full of love as is a cloud
Pregnant with thunders long and loud.
I tremble, for in this wild sky
Are lightnings, by which man may die!

When I am near you, I am like a child,
I'm still and simple, I am undefiled.
I speak my love in a forgotten tongue,
And use the words I knew when I was young.
My Love! You have restored me in a hundred ways,
You gave me back my happy childish days.

O spring of my Content,
The parching days are spent.
Where'er your feeding waters move
There is the sweet increase of love.

I, wanderer in a wilderness
Starved of all hope and comfortless,
Now lay me down in groves of cool delight
Which you have nurtured, in a charmed night.

Love with a liquid ecstasy
Did wholly fill me up,
And since his drink is sweet to me
Can I despise his cup?

His lips are open, since his mind
Delights in work his fingers find.
In that red arch I see a gate,
Where gracious Loves might pass in state.
Sure his white body were fit habitation
For a whole fairy population.

In the Lemnian Forge of late
Vulcan making Arrows sate;
Whilst with Honey their barb'd points
Venus , Love with Gall anoints:
Armed Mars by chance comes there,
Brandishing a sturdy Spear,
And in scorn the little shaft
Offring to take up, he laught:
This (saith Love) which thou dost slight
Is not (if thou try it) light;
Up Mars takes it, Venus smil'd;
But He (sighing) to the Child
Take it, cries, its weight I feel;
Nay (sayes Love) e'en keep it still.

This the figure is of Jove ,
To a Bull transform'd by Love,
On whose back the Tyrian Maid
Through the Surges was convaid:
See how swiftly he the wide
Sea doth with strong hoofs divide;
He (and he alone) could swim,
None o'th'Heard ere follow'd him.

If she could take two types of man,
Man that she loves, and man that she desires,
And fuse them in a magic pan,
Over the holy fires,
She might by Sorcery discover
A perfect Lover.

But she must build her Paradise above her,
Inherit Heaven after she is old,
For she can find no pleasant Love to love her,
The world is void of pleasure, and death-cold.

You wish, O master of my destiny,
That I control myself!
'Twere better you ruled me.
For if I rule myself, I smile at you, and hate.
If you rule me, I love you though I curse, O mate!

Thou gracious dweller of the woodland green,
Companion ever of the April flowers,
And living breath of mother Venus's heart,
O gentle zephyr! —

If thou dost know the sorrows of my love, —
Thou that dost bear afar my sad lament, —
Hear me and frankly say to her I love
That here I perish!

Filis, who once my bitter yearnings knew,
Filis, who once my bitter yearnings wept,
Once did she love me, but, alas, I fear,
I fear her anger!

So do the gods with their paternal breasts,
So do the heavens with all their hearts benign