Page:Poetry of the Magyars.djvu/128

22 DANGERS OF LOVE.

Nem leszek többe szerelmes.

To Love no more my vows I'll bring,

For Love is such a dangerous thing;

There's poison hid in every dart,

And canker-worms in every heart,

Where Love doth dwell.

I know the little treacherous boy—

Have fought beneath his flag with joy,

Which brought deep grief: I've worn his chain,

And wasted many months of pain,

In his dark cell.

For she who loves bears doom of woe;

Let her not trust the traitor's bow

Which I have trusted, just to be

Pierced through and through with misery,

With misery.

O forest trees! so tall that are;

O dovelet mine! that flies so far;

Would I could fell that giant grove!

Would I could reach that flitting dove!

It may not be!