New Spring, Prologue

Sometimes when o’er pictures turning
You have seen the man perchance,
Who is for the battle yearning,
Well-equipp’d with shield and lance.

Yet young loves are hov’ring round him,
Stealing lance and sword away;
They with flow’ry chains have bound him
Though he struggle in dismay.

I, too, in such charming fetters,
Bind myself with sad delight,
And I leave it to my betters
In time’s mighty fight to fight.