Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/80

76 The gypsy from these bonds shall raise A sharp defence; there come the days, That we ourselves with spurs shall clank, Like the man of lofty rank.

I struggled, by a savage love laid low, Burn me, destroy me with thine eyes' bright glow, Let on me prey a swarm of sighs like fire, And pierce my bosom with its own desire.

Thy breath is wafted like a breeze in spring, Thy breath is fragrant, and doth rapture bring; My love, which thy laments would fain allay, Like to young wine doth surge in pearly spray.

Like to a goblet filled with foamy longing, Within my bosom gleaming waves are thronging; Twine round me thy pale tresses in a flood, Thou still'st the fervour of my flaming blood.

A bounding desert-steed, my passion, cries: O that thy breath would like the samum rise; O that thine arms might bring me to my end, E'en as the hurricanes the oak-trees rend.