Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/81

Rh Ever to my lorn mind return'd

Are thoughts of homage offer'd ill,

Disdains ill borne, affection spurn'd,

And sighs contemn'd, recurring still.

Then, ah, Enarda! all in vain

Thou think'st to please thee with my grief:

Love, who now looks on me again

With eyes of pity and relief,

A thousand times has me accost,

As thus my tears to censure now,

"To lose them thou hast nothing lost;

Poor creature! why then weepest thou?",