Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/55

Rh

LAS! drear Poverty must be

The shamefaced spouse of Misery;

Her heart with sore affliction bruised,

Her eyes with scalding tears suffused,

While answering her sad plaint is heard

No sweet response, no pitying word,

To heal the wounds that tear her heart.

Her wretched fate it is to smart

With blame for every worthy deed,

How great soe’er her grief and need.

O ne’er consort with Poverty,

For nothing than her grip can be

More direful, as those find who get

Entangled in the coils of debt,

Through scattering wide in youthful days

Their substance, for old age oft pays

A heavy score, and many have stood

Therethrough beneath the gallows’ wood.

What pains untold those wretches know

Who driven by Poverty must go

Hither and thither to obtain

The little ease whereof they’re fain!

The lover nowise should forget

That Poverty doth sorely let

And hinder love, as Ovid saith:

With poor men love scant pastureth.