Page:The Queens Court Manuscript with Other Ancient Bohemian Poems, 1852, Cambridge edition.djvu/116

 Yet though her love be not to blame, She cruel anguish gives; And I must bear it evermore;— She asks not whom she rives. My mind doth drive me on to love, O happy, happy me! And now my highest gladness is Blest through the eyes to be. For all my joyance through the eyes Into my loving bosom flies. Love grows increasing by-and-bye In clearer, brighter sympathy, Because I gave her heart and mind. She is a fount of bliss refin’d, She the beginning is of mirth, My anguish and my joy on earth. E’en as sweet dews the rose-bud sips, When from its swathings free, E’en so I kiss’d her honied lips, O happy happy me! In vain to understand I try, How happy in thy love am I; Love banish’d is by anguish strong, Pain comforts, love doth pine and long. Love will accuse me—Ah! for why? Love cannot me accuse, that I