LX.
Yet slumbers towards dawn, and in a dream
The form of her Rogero seems to view.
The vision cries: “Why vex yourself, and deem
“Things real which are hollow and untrue?
“Backwards shall sooner flow the mountain-stream
“Than I to other turn my thought from you.
“When you I love not, then unloved by me
“This heart, these apples of mine eyes, will be.
LXI.
“Hither have I repaired (it seemed he said)
“To be baptized and do as I professed.
“If I have lingered, I have been delaid,
“By other wound than that of Love opprest.”
With that he vanished from the martial maid,
And with the vision broken was her rest.
New floods of tears the awakened damsel shed,
And to herself in this sad fashion said:
LXII.
“What pleased was but a dream; alas! a sheer
“Reality is this my waking bane;
“My joy a dream and prompt to disappear,
“No dream my cruel and tormenting pain.
“Ah! wherefore what I seemed to see and hear,
“Cannot I, waking, see and hear again?
“What ails ye, wretched eyes, that closed ye show
“Unreal good, and open but on woe?
