Thou wilt not, but with hope at length console.

Kindled the flame I know not what delight,
Which me doth so devour,
That day and night alike I find no ease;
For whether it was by hearing, touch, or sight,
Unwonted was the power,
And fresh the fire that me each way did seize;
Wherein without release
I languish still, and of thee, Lord, am fain,
For thou alone canst comfort and make whole.

Ah! tell me if it shall be, and how soon,
That I again thee meet
Where those death-dealing eyes I kissed. Thou, chief
Weal of my soul, my very soul, this boon
Deny not; say that fleet
Thou hiest hither: comfort thus my grief.
Ah! let the time be brief
Till thou art here, and then long time remain;
For I, Love-stricken, crave but Love's control.

Let me but once again mine own thee call,
No more so indiscreet
As erst, I'll be, to let thee from me part:
Nay, I'll still hold thee, let what may befall,
And of thy mouth so sweet
Such solace take as may content my heart
So this be all my art,
Thee to entice, me with thine arms to enchain: