What heart like mine such bitterness can bear!
ASIF.
X.
The eyes of the narcissus win new light
From gleams that in Thy rapturous eyes they trace,
The flame is but a moth with fluttering flight
Drawn by the lovelier lustre of Thy face.
This shifting House of Mirrors where we dwell
Under Thy charm a fairy palace seems:
Who hath not fallen tangled in Thy spell