To the Viscountess of Burlatz

Lady, whom weeping I obey,
More lovely far than tongue can say,
Thy lover true, thy staunchest friend,
His greeting unto thee does send;
From thee, too, craves the like, and well
Thou know'st of whom I hereby tell,
For never joy on earth I know,
Unless from thy sweet self it flow.
Longtime, oh! Lady, I do ponder,
How best convey my meaning yonder
Where thou dost tarry — Were it best
By messenger, or me exprest?
But messenger I dare not send,
Lest that thy wrath on me descend;
By my own lips 'twere best then told —
But love o'er heart and mind has hold
So firm, when I thy presence seek,
I straight forget what I would speak;
True message then my thoughts reveal,
A letter sealed with my seal;
A more discreet I might not find,
Nor one more courteous, true and kind.
Love's counsel I do herein heed,
Who daily succours me at need.
Love bids me writing to implore thee
Whate'er I fear to ask before thee;
I dare not Love's command despise —
He serves him best who straight complies.
Hear what the letter does contain,
And do not thou my prayers disdain.
Oh! gracious Lady, rarely wise,
Who look'st on all with kindly eyes,
In thought, and word, and deed high bred,
In arts of courtesy the head;
Thy wondrous loveliness, thy grace,
Thy slender form, and bright-hued face.
Thy glance that with sweet love is lit,
Thy silvery laugh, and merry wit,
The goodness that in thee is seen.
Thy pleasant speech and gladsome mien,
And all thy words and actions kind —
These day and night possess my mind;
And joy and gladness flee from me,
Because thy face I may not see;
Gladness and joy from me have fled,
And wrecked my life if not bestead.
Long suffering, long anxious care,
Much wakefulness and slumber rare,
Unsated yearning, hope forlorn
Have my sad heart well-nigh outworn,
That day and night to God on high
I pray to win thee or to die.
If God thy love to me do give,
Thine ten times more than mine I live;
For thine, oh! Lady, by my fay,
Is all the good I do or say.
That self-same day I saw thee first
Love filled my heart with raging thirst;
And put me in so fierce a fire,
Since first it flamed it ne'er does tire;
Has ne'er since first it flamed abated,
But grows the more in rage unsated.
As, when afar I needs must be,
Still grows the more my love to thee.
All day I groan in this fell fight,
But bitterer far my woe by night;
For when at night to sleep I'm fain,
And think to find me eased of pain,
Alack! I toss, and turn, and start,
And think and think with heavy heart.
Thereon, to sit awhile I rise,
Then lay me down in restless wise;
And first upon the right arm throw me,
Then straight upon the left bestow me;
Then suddenly do lay me bare;
Then wrap me round with anxious care;
And, after such exertion vain,
Both arms I outside fling again;
And therewith, clasping hand in hand,
Turn thoughts and eyes toward that dear land,
Where thou, my Lady fair, dost dwell,
Not leaving aught that tongue can tell.
Ah! sweetest Lady, might it chance,
Whate'er the hour or circumstance,
That, once in life thy faithful slave
That rapture know, he long does crave,
Of clasping thee within his arms.
And gazing on thy peerless charms,
Kissing thine eyes, thy red lips sweet,
That mine in one long kiss should meet,
Till that I swoon with great delight —
Too much I've spoke, yet, such my plight,
Once, only once I needs must say,
What long upon my heart does weigh.
And speaking thus all speech I leave,
With drowsy lids one sigh I heave,
And sighing sink into repose.
Then wandering my spirit goes,
Makes, Lady, eager search for thee,
With whom it ever fain would be;
Quick finds the joy, for which I yearn,
When day and night for thee I burn,
And freely thy dear love possesses,
And freely thy dear self caresses.
Ah! might I ever sleep like this,
No kingly lot were such rare bliss.
'Tis better thus sleep life away
Than waking grieve the live-long day;
And Rodocesta, nor Biblis,
Blancaflor, nor Semiramis,
Tibes, nor Seida, nor Elena,
Antigone, nor else Ismena,
Nor Isold, with the hair of gold,
Did never know such joy untold,
When with their lovers they have been,
As mine is then with thee I ween.
Whereon my lips a sigh does part.
And I do waken with a start,
Open my eyes and gaze around,
To see if thou perchance be found
Hard by; but, Lady, woe is me!
For nowhere thy loved form I see.
Turn then my face, and close my eyes,
With hands tight clasped in such wise
That slumber sweet might soothe my mind;
But slumber sweet I cannot find,
And once more fight the battle dreary
With Love, who leaves me faint and weary.
Lady, the hundredth part, I ween,
Can ne'er be told of all the teen,
The sore travail, the torments dire
I ever suffer from Love's fire.
Through thee Love's fire alive does burn me.
And now to thee for grace I turn me;
Forgive me, if I too much dare,
And hearken, Lady, to my prayer.
Lady, of all that live the fairest,
Of all that Nature formed the rarest,
Better than I can know or say,
And sweeter than the sweet May day;
Summer shade, March sun outbreaking,
April rain the flowers awaking,
Love's fair Mirror, Rose of Beauty,
Key to honour, shrine of Duty,
House of Largesse, Queen of Youth,
Root of Wisdom, head of Truth,
Love's fair dwelling, home of Gladness,
Oh! Lady bid me leave all sadness.
Grant that thy servant I may live.
And promise me thy love to give.
Unmeet it were to ask thee more,
Thy mercy only I implore;
And, since I fealty to thee vow.
The hope to win thee give me now.
That hope to me will courage lend,
Till, with good hope, I reach life's end.
Better to die, so hope be mine,
Than without hope alive to pine.
I'll pray no more — God yield thee grace,
And never turn from thee His face.
So please thee, give me health to know,
Since love for thee has laid me low.
May Love, who conquers everything,
Eke thee a captive to me bring,
Lady!