To arms! to arms! what more the voice would say
Was swallow’d in the valleys, and grew faint
Upon the thin air, as he pass’d away.
54
Since not the enamour’d sun with glance more fond
Kisses the foliage of his sacred tree,
Than doth my waking thought arise on thee,
Loving none near thee, like thee nor beyond;
Nay since I am sworn thy slave, and in the bond
Is writ my promise of eternity;