Its mortal place it had been well to have wept;
But now the fault beyond our ruing lies.
17
‘As to be worship’d was my whole undoing,
So my submission must the forfeit pay:
And welcome were the morning of my wooing,
Tho’ after it should dawn no other day.
Up to the mountain! for I hear the voice
Of my belovèd on the winds, Rejoice,
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!’