Rondel.
(Adapted, for the use of the Order of Our Lady of Pain.)
Kissing the Heir, I saw him at my feet,
Wound round my finger, found him soft and sweet;
Made fast his feeble hands, dazzled his eyes,—
Like fishes’ optics, no ways clear or wise.
With my best dresses made him find me fair—
Kissing the Heir!
Deep the resources drained by him and me,