Love! Art thou blind? Nay, thou canst see too well!
And they are blind that so report of thee!
That thou dost see, myself by proof can tell;
(A hapless proof thereof is made by me);
For sure I am, hadst thou not had thy sight,
Thou never couldst have hit my heart so right.
XXV.
Long have I languished, and endured much smart
Since hapless I, the Cruel Fair did love;
And lodged her in the centre of my heart.
Who, there abiding, Reason should her move.
Though of my pains she no compassion take;
Yet to respect me, for her own sweet sake.
XXVI.
In midst of winter season, as the snow,
Whose milk white mantle overspreads the ground;
In part, the colour of my love is so.
Yet their effects, I have contrary found:
For when the sun appears, snow melts anon;
But I melt always when my sun is gone.
XXVII.
The sweet content, at first, I seemed to prove
(While yet Desire unfledged, could scarcely fly),
Did make me think there was no life to Love;
Till all too late, Time taught the contrary.
For, like a fly, I sported with the flame;
Till, like a fool, I perished in the same.
XXVIII.
After dark night, the cheerful day appeareth;
After an ebb, the river flows again;
After a storm, the cloudy heaven cleareth:
All labours have their end, or ease of pain.
Each creature hath relief and rest, save I,
Who only dying, live; and living, die!