Ah me! the magic that dissolves my health
Is a rich suitor in my mistress' eye,
Whom that vile bawd led to her door by stealth
And opened it, and bade me pine and die.
That hag should feed on blood. Her festive bowls
Should be rank gall: and round her haunted room
Wild, wailing ghosts and monitory owls
Should flit forever shrieking death and doom.
Made hunger-mad, may she devour the grass
That grows on graves, and gnaw the bare bones down
Which wolves have left! Stark-naked may she pass,
Chased by the street-dogs through the taunting town!
My curse comes fast. Unerring signs are seen
In stars above us. There are gods who still
Protect unhappy lovers: and our Queen
Venus rains fire on all who slight her will.
O cruel girl! unlearn the wicked art
Of that rapacious hag! For everywhere
Wealth murders love. But thy poor lover's heart
Is ever thine, and thou his dearest care.
A poor man clings close to thy lovely side,
And keeps the crowd off, and thy pathway free;
He hides thee with kind friends, and as his bride
From thy dull, golden thraldom ransoms thee.
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