212 RINALDO D1AQUINO

What time I hear the lark
And nightingale keep Spring, 20

My heart will pant and yearn
For love, (Ye all may mark
The unkindly comforting

Of fire that will not burn.)
And, being in the shadow of the fresh wood,

How excellently good
A thing love is, I cannot choose but learn.

Let me ask grace ; for I,
Being loved, loved not again.

Now springtime makes me love, so

And bids me satisfy

The lover whose fierce pain
f' I thought too lightly of:
For that the pain is fierce I do feel now.

And yet this pride is slow
To free my heart, which pity would fain move,

Wherefore I pray thee, Love,
That thy breath turn me o'er,

Even as the wind a leaf;
And I will set thee above 40

This heart of mine, that's sore

Perplexed, to be its chief.
Let also the dear youth, whose passion must

Henceforward have good trust,
Be happy without words; for words bring grief.