For as with bodies, so with souls it is, The greater gives, the lesser doth conceive: That thou hast fathered Love, I tell thee this, And by my pangs beseech thee to believe. Look on his hope divine-- Thy hope and mine-- Pity his outstretched hands, tenderly him receive!
While I within her secret garden walked, The flowers, that in her presence must be dumb, With me, their fellow-servant, softly talked, Attending till the Flower of flowers should come. Then, since at Court I had arrived but late, I was by love made bold To ask that of my lady's high estate I might be told, And glories of her blood, perpetuate In histories old.
Then they, who know the chronicle of Earth, Spoke of her loveliness, that like a flame Far-handed down from noble birth to birth, Gladdened the world for ages ere she came. "Yea, yea," they said, "from Summer's royal sun Comes that immortal line, And was create not for this age alone Nor wholly thine, Being indeed a flower whose root is one With Life Divine.
"To the sweet buds that of herself are part Already she this portion hath bequeathed, As, not less surely, into thy proud heart Her nobleness, O poet, she hath breathed, That her inheritance by them and thee The world may keep alway, When the still sunlight of her eyes shall be Lost to the day, And even the fragrance of her memory Fading away."
Since thou and I have wandered from the highway And found with hearts reborn This swift and unimaginable byway Unto the hills of morn, Shall not our love disdain the unworthy uses Of the old time outworn?
I'll not entreat thy half unwilling graces With humbly folded palms, Nor seek to shake thy proud defended places With noise of vague alarms, Nor ask against my fortune's grim pursuing The refuge of thy arms.
Thou'lt not withhold for pleasure vain and cruel That which has long been mine, Nor overheap with briefly burning fuel A fire of flame divine, Nor yield the key for life's profaner voices To brawl within the shrine.
But thou shalt tell me of thy queenly pleasure All that I must fulfil, And I'll receive from out my royal treasure What golden gifts I will, So that two realms supreme and undisputed Shall be one kingdom still.
And our high hearts shall praise the beauty hidden In starry-minded scorn By the same Lord who hath His servants bidden To seek with eyes new-born This swift and unimaginable byway Unto the hills of morn.