Pagina 553 de 1116

"This house, my lady, since you left is now a home no more * For

me, nor neighbours, since you left, prove kind and neighbourly:

The friend, whilere I took to heart, alas! no more to me * Is

friend; and even Luna's self displayeth lunacy: You left and by

your going left the world a waste, a wold, * And lies a gloomy

murk upon the face of hill and lea: O may the raven-bird whose

cry our hapless parting croaked * Find ne'er a nesty home and eke

shed all his plumery! At length my patience fails me; and this

absence wastes my flesh; * How many a veil by severance rent our

eyes are doomed see: Ah! shall I ever sight again our fair past

nights of yore; * And shall a single house become a home for me

once more?"