Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/123

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When Love had said his say, I cried:

“Alas! must lovers then abide

Such cruel woe, such bitter pain.

As you recount ere yet they gain

The wished-for haven? Grievous fear

O’erwhelms my mind: what man can steer

His life through such a sea of woe

As your sworn liege must undergo?

In sighs and tears and wailings wrapped,

His health destroyed, his vigour sapped;

His nights consumed with anxious care:

Ah! God, I ask what man could wear

His life one month in such a hell,

Unless forsooth he bare a shell

Of adamant or steel?”

Quick sped

The God reply thereto, and said:

“Now swear I, by my father’s soul,

Who wins the prize must pay the toll,

For game hath ever sweeter taste

Which weary foot hath hotly chased;

And likewise good seems higher good

When bought by pain and wearihood.

Certes most true it is that, ne’er

Can aught with lovers’ woes compare;

The man lives not whose might the sea

Can empty, nor can ever be

Love’s pains set forth in tale or book;

Yet natheless, still do lovers look