When they themselves are long since fled and gone.
Again he came, his voice more sweetly tuned,
More syren-like, than ever. I heard the voice,
Nor knew its hidden fraud. O, would that Heaven
Had made us, in its highest justice, deaf,
Since tongues so false it gave to men! He lured,
He lured me as the fowler lures the bird
And snares in meshes hid beneath the grass.
I struggled, but in vain; for Love, heaven’s child,
Has power the mightiest fortress to subdue.