Thou hatest me, thy red lips say With well-pretended snarling; But when sweet kisses they convey, I’m comforted, my darling. 13. Full lovingly thou must embrace me, My mistress beauteous and sweet! With pliant form interlace me, And with thine arms and thy feet. The fairest of snakes e’er created With vigour encircles anon, And clasps and twines round the elated And happy Laocoon. 14. Swear not at all, but only kiss! All woman’s oaths I hold amiss; Thy word is sweet, but sweeter far The kisses that my guerdon are. These keep I, while thy words but seem A passing cloud, or fragrant dream. * * * * * Now then, my loved one, swear away! I’ll credit all that thou dost say; And when I sink upon thy breast, I’ll think that I am truly blest; I’ll think that, love, eternally And even longer, thou’lt love me. 15. Upon my mistress’s eyes so clear I write the fairest cantatas; Upon my mistress’s mouth sincere I write the best of terzinas; Upon my mistress’s cheeks so dear I write the cleverest stanzas; And had my mistress a heart, upon it I soon would write a charming sonnet. 16. The world’s an ass, the world can’t see, And grows more stupid daily: It says, my darling child, of thee,-- Thou livest far too gaily. The world’s an ass, the world can’t see, Thy character not knowing; It knows not how sweet thy kisses be, How rapturously glowing. 17. Loved one--gladly would I know it,-- Art thou but a vision fair, Such as in his brain the poet Loves in summer to prepare? No! such eyes of magic splendour, Lips so rosy and so warm, Such a child, so sweet and tender, Never did the poet form. Basilisks and vampires gory, Dragons, monsters of the earth, Suchlike evil beasts of story In the poet’s fire have birth. But thyself, thy wiles insidious, And thy face, so sweet and staid, And thy kindly looks perfidious,-- These the poet never made. 18. Gleams my love in beauty’s splendour, Like the child of ocean foam; As his bride my mistress tender Is a stranger taking home. Though ’tis treason, don’t abuse it, Heart, thou much-enduring one! Bear it, bear it, and excuse it, What the beauteous fool hath done. 19. I’ll not be angry, though my heart should break, Evermore lost one! no complaint I’ll make. Though thou may’st sparkle ’neath thy diamonds bright, No ray can pierce thy heart’s unceasing night. I’ve known it long. In vision saw I thee, How night thy heart doth fill unceasingly, And how the serpent at thy heart doth gnaw,-- How wretched, love, thou art, too well I saw. 20.