And earth, spaded up, yields to light
Her gold that by day she denies,
The stealthy hand snatches the spoils;
The face with cold sweat is suffused
And Fear grips him tight in her toils
Lest robbers the secret have used
And shake out the gold from his breast.
But, when they depart from his brain,
These enchantments by which he's obsessed,
And Truth comes again with her train
Restoring perspective and pain,
The phantasm lives to the last,
The mind dwells with shades of the past.

(The misfortune seemed to me a dream, but I imagined that I must surely
be under a spell of enchantment and, for a long time, I was so devoid of
strength that I could not get to my feet. But finally my mental
depression began to abate, little by little my strength came back to me,
and I returned home: arrived there, I feigned illness and threw myself
upon my couch. A little late: Giton, who had heard of my indisposition,
entered the room in some concern. As I wished to relieve his mind I
informed him that I had merely sought my pallet to take a rest, telling
him much other gossip but not a word about my mishap as I stood in great
fear of his jealousy and, to lull any suspicion which he might entertain,
I drew him to my side and endeavoured to give him some proofs of my love
but all my panting and sweating were in vain. He jumped up in a rage and
accused my lack of virility and change of heart, declaring that he had
for a long time suspected that I had been expending my vigor and breath
elsewhere. "No! No! Darling," I replied, "my love for you has always
been the same, but reason prevails now over love and wantonness.") "And