10
O Love, my muse, how was’t for me
Among the best to dare,
In thy high courts that bowed the knee
With sacrifice and prayer?
Their mighty offerings at thy shrine
Shamed me, who nothing bore:
Their suits were mockeries of mine,
I sued for so much more.
Full many I met that crowned with bay
In triumph home returned,
And many a master on the way
Proud of the prize I scorned.
I wished no garland on my head
Nor treasure in my hand;
My gift the longing that me led,
My prayer thy high command,
My love, my muse; and when I spake
Thou mad’st me thine that day,
And more than hundred hearts could take
Gav’st me to bear away.