Lest you should drown the world in seas of grief.

She need not have one anxious doubt of me,
She need not fear my further wanderings--
How can I flee?
How can a bird escape, deprived of wings?

FIGHAN.




XIX.


How difficult is the thorny way of strife
That man hath stumbled in since time began,
And in the tangled business of this life
How difficult to play the part of man.

When She decrees there should exist no more
My humble cottage, through its broken walls,
And cruelly drifting in the open door,
The frozen rain of desolation falls.

O mad Desire, why dost thou flame and burn
And bear my Soul further and further yet
To the Beloved; then, why dost thou turn
To bitter disappointment and regret?