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Though strict attention had I given

To every word, as though from Heaven

Her message came. But Love so held

My heart in bond, that he compelled

Me, as his thrall and liege confessed,

To shape my thought as pleased him best,

Keeping my heart beneath his wing,

While, as with shovel, did he fling

From out my head each sapient word

That I from Reason’s mouth had heard

Fall, and e’en fast as in one ear

Words entered, so did they appear

From out the other, insomuch

That nowise did her sermon touch

My spirit but to raise my ire.

Then cried I: “Is it your desire,

Madam, that I should feel despite

’Gainst all my neighbours! Shall I ’quite

The world with hate because the God

Of Love hath laid on me the rod

Of pain and dole? I then should live

In mortal sin that ne’er forgive

Would God; and I should be forsooth

(If I should count your words for truth)

Worse than a heathen.

Either hate

Or love must be to me the gate

Of life. I have small lust to try

The former, until finally

I find that Love has thrust me forth,

And proved his promises not worth

One penny. Counsel strict you gave

That I, all hastily, should save