The Desire of the Moth for the Star

With song I thought to ease my sore distress,
So now I sing, "To leave her were no wrong."
The more I sing and think of her, the less,
Alas, my sorrows are dispelled by song!
For Love hath brought me into hope so strong
That now, methinks, its power I can repress
No more, since I have followed it so long.

Since Love to me such honour would display
That in my heart she bade me bear aright
Her who can turn my grief to joy straightway,
(I were a fool to leave her, in despite!)
To Love I will lament my hapless plight,
For she, who so could wound me, surely may
Yet bid me to the Mansion of Delight.

I marvel how, though we be far apart,
My lady can so sore torment my peace;
Then I am confident within my heart,
Might I but see her, all my cares should cease!
This thought, when I am with her, brings me ease,
And straight I think my fortune takes its start:—
Then more than ever doth my loss increase.

When I am with her, I am pained yet more,
As, when a man draws nigher to the heat,
He cannot choose but burn himself right sore:
Just such a fate from her great charm I meet.
My heart, when I am with her, scarce will beat,
And leaving her is death worse than before,
Since looking on her seems to me so sweet.

My lady's beauty, I have well discerned,
Doth work on me as on the moth the flame,
When it flies round it, till it is all burned:
So her great charm betrayed me to my shame.
My foolish heart was bent upon that aim,
And all my thoughts on her so wholly turned
That at the last my fate must be the same.