II.
To seek adventures, as Fate hath assigned,
My slender Bark now floats upon the main;
Each troubled thought, an Oar; each sigh, a Wind,
Whose often puffs have rent my Sails in twain.
Love steers the Boat, which (for that sight, he lacks)
Is still in danger of ten thousand wracks.
III.
What sudden chance hath changed my wonted cheer,
Which makes me other than I seem to be?
My days of joy, that once were bright and clear,
Are turned to nights! my mirth, to misery!
Ah, well I ween that somewhat is amiss;
But, sooth to say, I know not what it is!
IV.
What, am I dead? Then could I feel no smart!
But still in me the sense of grief reviveth.
Am I alive? Ah, no! I have no heart;
For she that hath it, me of life depriveth.
O that she would restore my heart again;
Or give me hers, to countervail my pain!
V.
If it be Love, to waste long hours in grief;
If it be Love, to wish, and not obtain;
If it be Love, to pine without relief;
If it be Love, to hope and never gain;
Then may you think that he hath truly loved,
Who, for your sake! all this and more, hath proved!
VI.