To any captor of the outer walls;
In sorrow you shall learn there is a light
Illumines not, a chamber it were best
To leave untrod.
O Ares, dread the word
That silences this timorous nightingale,
The touch that wakens strings too frail for hands;
For, giving her, I gain what you shall lose;
Forsaking her, I hold her closer still.
The sea shall take a deeper sound; the stars