Page:Dante and His Circle, with the Italian Poets Preceding Him.djvu/147

Rh Until each sigh must be my last, I thought.

Yet still this longing wrought

So much of torment for my soul to bear,

That with the pang I swooned and fell to earth.

Then, as in trance, 'twas whispered at mine ear,

How in this constant girth

Of anguish, I indeed at length must die:

So that I dreaded Love continually.

Master, thou knowest now

The life which in thy service I have borne:

Not that I tell it thee to disallow

Control, who still to thy behest am sworn.

Yet if through this my vow

I remain dead, nor help they will confer,

Do thou at least, for God's sake, pardon her.