Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/118

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Shall gather; little shalt thou get

Of slumber; anxious care shall fret

Thy brain, and thou shalt toss and start

Uneasily, and then athwart

Thy pillow turn, like coin upthrown,

Now cross, now pile, till thou hast grown

Weary as one whose tooth doth ache.

All this thou sufferest for the sake

Of her whose beauty to thine eyes

Is present in such glorious wise

That nought can equal it. Anon

Thou dreamest thy beloved one

Lies naked in thine arms, become

Thy wife, and decks thy joyous home.

And then shalt thou rejoice amain

In dreams of palaces in Spain,

And find delight in joys unstable.

Built up of lies and foolish fable.

But soon thy vision shall be past

And once again thy tears fall fast,

And thou shalt cry: ‘Was this a dream?

Where am I? Doth all this but seem?

Alas! Whence came this vision bright?

Would God! ten times a day ’twere dight.

Ay twenty, for it steeps my soul

In joy supernal, and black dole

Drives far away. Alas! that pure

Delight should such short space endure.

Ah God! If I perchance could be

In such blest case as seemed to me

Erewhile my lot, how gladly I,

Clasped in my mistress’ arms, would die.