NISIDA. Though my soul is satisfied With the bliss which is my own, 'Tis in part racked and undone By another's bliss denied; Fortune scant and Love bestow-- Enemies unto my pleasure-- On me bliss in niggard measure, And unmeasured endless woe. In the state by Love befriended Although merit may abound, Pleasure is as lonely found, E'en as evil comes attended; Evils aye in unity Walk, nor for a moment sever, Blisses are divided ever That their end may sooner be. What it costeth to attain Any joy of love so fair, Let our love and hope declare, And our patience make it plain; One bliss untold agony Costeth, one joy untold sighs-- Ah! they know it well, my sighs And my wearied memory. Which forever hath in mind That which power to help it hath Yet to find it, road or path Nowhere doth the memory find; Ah! sweet friend of that fair youth Who did call thee friend, when he Claimed the name of friend from thee, E'en as I am his in truth! Our unthought-of happiness Groweth better when thou'rt near, Let not thy cruel absence drear Turn it to unhappiness; Anguish sore the memory Rouseth, that reminds me how I was wise, and foolish thou, Thou art wise, and foolish I. More he lost in losing thee-- He to whom, fortune thy guide, Thou didst give me as his bride-- Than he won in winning me; Half his soul in thee he had, Thou wert he, by whom my soul Could attain the happy goal That thine absence maketh sad.