the story of a life.
39
Then Pleasure held her goblet high,
And called on me to drain
The glowing wine quaffed by the gods,
Till madness fired my brain;
And called on me to drain
The glowing wine quaffed by the gods,
Till madness fired my brain;
She mocked and tortured by delay,—
Then, at my frenzied call,
She offered to my burning lip
The cup, and it was gall.
Then, at my frenzied call,
She offered to my burning lip
The cup, and it was gall.
I won a friend by generous deeds,—
One with an open brow;
He bound his very life to mine
With many a holy vow.
One with an open brow;
He bound his very life to mine
With many a holy vow.
Then fell the bolt,—I was betrayed!
By cool, insidious art,—
By words that, like barbed arrows, still
Are quivering in my heart.
By cool, insidious art,—
By words that, like barbed arrows, still
Are quivering in my heart.
At last unto my bosom came,
In gentlest guise, young Love;
It crept into its resting-place,
A sweet and quiet dove.
In gentlest guise, young Love;
It crept into its resting-place,
A sweet and quiet dove.
