IV. The Combat.
Now will I a lover be!
Love himself commanded me.
Full at first of stubborn pride,
To submit, my soul denied.20
He his quiver takes, and bow,
Bids defiance: forth I go.
Armed with spear and shield we meet:
On he charges: I retreat,
Till, perceiving in the fight25
He had wasted every flight,
Into me, with fury hot,
Like a dart himself he shot.
And my cold heart melts; my shield
Useless, no defence could yield;30
For what boots an outward screen,
When, alas, the fight’s within?
V.
On this verdant lotus laid,
Underneath the myrtle’s shade,
Let us drink our sorrows dead,
Whilst Love plays the Ganymed.
Life like to[66:1] a wheel runs round:5
And, ere long, we underground
Ta’en by death asunder, must
Moulder in forgotten dust.
Why then graves should we bedew,
Why the ground with odours strew?10
Better, whilst alive, prepare
Flowers and unguents for our hair.
Come, my Fair,[66:2] and come away!
All our cares behind us lay,
That these pleasures we may know,15
Ere we come to those below.