And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain:[50] The winter's past; the clouds and tempests fly; The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky. 530 Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming part My bosom wounds, and captivates my heart; Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage, Joy of my life, and comfort of my age. This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made, 535 To haste before; the gentle squire obeyed: Secret and undescried he took his way, And, ambushed close, behind an arbour lay, It was not long ere January came, And, hand in hand with him his lovely dame; 540 Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure, He turned the key, and made the gate secure. Here let us walk, he said, observed by none, Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown: So may my soul have joy, as thou my wife 545 Art far the dearest solace of my life; And rather would I chuse, by heav'n above, To die this instant, than to lose thy love.[51] Reflect what truth was in my passion shown, } When, unendowed, I took thee for my own, } 550 And sought no treasure but thy heart alone. } Old as I am, and now deprived of sight, } Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true knight, } Nor age, nor blindness, rob me of delight. } Each other loss with patience I can bear, 555 The loss of thee is what I only fear. Consider then, my lady and my wife, The solid comforts of a virtuous life. As first, the love of Christ himself you gain; Next, your own honour undefiled maintain; 560 And lastly, that which sure your mind must move,[52] My whole estate shall gratify your love: Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's sun Displays his light, by heav'n it shall be done. I seal the contract with a holy kiss, 565 And will perform, by this--my dear, and this.[53] Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy lord unkind; 'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind. For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage, And joined to them my own unequal age,[54] 570 From thy dear side I have no pow'r to part, Such secret transports warm my melting heart. For who that once possessed those heav'nly charms, Could live one moment absent from thy arms? He ceased, and May with modest grace replied; 575 (Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cried;) Heav'n knows (with that a tender sigh she drew) I have a soul to save as well as you; And, what no less you to my charge commend, My dearest honour, will to death defend. 580 To you in holy church I gave my hand,