Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/98

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Blesseth the pain it brings. Its point

Is keen and pierces thew and joint

Like steel-wrought razor. But the head

With unguent is by Cupid spread

To dull the pain, for wills he not

The death of those whom he hath got

Within his toils, but betterment

Delights to give them; oft is sent

To all his lieges fragrant balm,

Wrought by his hands, their griefs to calm.

Lovers in him great comfort find;

Sores doth he heal and woundings bind.

This arrow Love against me drew,

Tearing my heart, but like a dew

Of sweet effect this unguent spread

Through all my frame, from heel to head,

My senses cleared, and gave me back

That strength whereof my limbs had lack.

And through that precious balsam death

Was cheated—Love renewed my breath.

Enough of strength I had to draw

The arrow forth, but like a claw

The barb held fast, so all the five

Fair shafts did Cupid thus contrive

To lodge within my frame, which ne’er

Can force remove or time outwear.

And though the ointment helped me much,

The pains I still endured were such,

That of my countenance the hue

Was altered, and right well I knew

That this last shaft both marred and made,

For anguish tipped its pointed blade;