Songs, 6

Patience, surly pilot, shortly
To the port I’ll follow you;
From two maidens I’m departing,
From my love and Europe too.

Blood-spring, from mine eyes ’gin running,
Blood-spring, from my body flow,
So that I then, with my hot blood,
May write down my tale of woe.

Ah, my body, wherefore shudder
Thus to-day my blood to see?
Many years before thee standing
Pale, heart-bleeding, saw’st thou me!

Know’st thou still the olden story
Of the snake in Paradise,
Who, a cursed apple giving,
Caused our parents endless sighs?

Apples brought all evils on us,
Death through Eve by apples came;
Flames on Troy were brought by Eris,--
Both thou broughtest, death and flame!