Splendide mendax

Ever I feel that the world is my own,
Yes, and that over it all I can fly.
Lightly I spring where my thoughts may have gone;
Far tho' it be, with a wish I am nigh.
Doughty and strong and light-hearted am I,
Able for aught, and so fleetly I trip it,
Never a beast in the wood could outstrip it—
Nay, I am heavy as lead: 'twas a lie!

Truly, for mirth I am like to go mad,
Now that from Love I have won such delight
Were there a wood of fair trees to be had.
Clean through them all I could pierce with my sight,
Aye, and among them leap high in my might
Nay, but my mirth it is meet I should bridle.—
I lie, like a fool, and my song it is idle:
Truth to confess, I was ne'er in worse plight!

The Watchers are troubled and vexed in their mind;
Their fury and wrath I have good cause to gain,
Now that my lady is gracious and kind.
Once I was sad; I am glad now and fain.
I ne'er could forget that my heart had one pain,
But now that hath left me and wholly is vanished;
All of my griefs by my mirth have been banished;
Ne'er was such joy—and I lie yet again!

Ever I failed, but I'll win me success
Yet in the sweet prize of love, I declare.
The Watchers are anxious and full of distress,
Now that no longer they hear me despair.
Far from my heart hath she chased all its care.
God give her grace that my sorrows are over!—
Nay, all's a lie; I have still far to fare!