Long I've unlearnt me that complaint of dole Brings cure of dolours; but a wight in pain To greet is forcèd an the grief be great. I _will_ outgreet; but weak my voice and vain To express the sorrows which oppress my soul; For nor with greeting shall my dole abate. Who then shall grant me, to relieve my weight Of sorrow, flowing tears and infinite sighs Equal those miseries my Sprite o'erpower? But who at any hour, Can measure miseries with his tears or cries? I'll tell, in fine, the love for me design'd By wrath and woe and all their sovenance; For other dole hath qualities harder, sterner. Draw near and hear me each despairing Learner! And fly the many fed on Esperance Or wights who fancy Hope will prove her kind; For Love and Fortune willed, with single mind, To leave them hopeful, so they comprehend What measure of unweal in hand they hend. III When fro' man's primal grave, the mother's womb, New eyes on earth I oped, my hapless star To mar my Fortunes 'gan his will enforce; And freedom (Free-will given me) to debar: I learnt a thousand times it was my doom. To know the Better and to work the Worse: Then with conforming tormentize to curse My course of coming years, when cast I round A boyish eye-glance with a gentle zest, It was my Star's behest A Boy born blind should deal me life-long wound. Infantine tear-drops wellèd out the deep With vague enamoured longings, nameless pine: My wailing accents fro' my cradle-stound Already sounded me love-sighing sound. Thus age and destiny had like design: For when, peraunter, rocking me to sleep They sung me Love-songs wherein lovers weep, Attonce by Nature's will asleep I fell, So Melancholy witcht me with her spell! IV My nurse some Feral was; Fate nilled approve By any Woman such a name be tane Who gave me breast; nor seemed it suitable. Thus was I suckled that my lips indrain E'en fro' my childhood venom-draught of Love, Whereof in later years I drained my fill, Till by long custom failed the draught to kill. Then an Ideal semblance struck my glance Of that fere Human deckt with charms in foyson, Sweet with the suavest poyson, Who nourisht me with paps of Esperance; Till later saw mine eyes the original, Which of my wildest, maddest appetite Makes sinful error sovran and superb. Meseems as human form it came disturb, But scintillating Spirit's divinest light. So graceful gait, such port imperial Were hers, unweal vainglory'd self to weal When in her sight, whose lively sheen and shade Exceeded aught and all things Nature made. V