A dungeon foul of paradise,
A May-tide midst of snow and ice;
A moth which deigns alike to fret
Coarse woollen cloth and fine brunette;
For love will thrive as well between
Rough blankets as fair silken sheen,
And no man yet was born so wise,
Nor bore such quarterings and device,4620
Nor proved himself of such great might
In counsel, court, or field of fight,
Nor showed himself so stern and grim
But what strong Love hath conquered him.
Except I those of vile estate,
Cast out and excommunicate
By Genius, insomuch that they
Have given their lives and souls away
To such-like crime as none may name,
Of sense bereft and lost to shame.4630
No safety but in flight
Now if it be thy wish, above
The joys and pains alike of love
To set thee—flee—take not one sup
From out that sweet but venomed cup.
For thy disease there is but one
Complete and perfect guerison:
Flee Love, and Love from thee will flee,
Embrace him, and he’ll master thee.”
The Lover.
When heard I Reason beat the air
With many a word she well might spare,4640
I cried: “Good Lord! I know no more,
For all your talk, than heretofore,
