XCIV
HAPPY my heart, and happier far was I,
When ignorant of love’s entanglement;
When I knew not its art or blandishment,
And fearless passed young Cupid lightly by.
Oh, happy hour! How vainly do I try
To now regain my freedom, and repent
The days, the hours, the years that have been
In giving birth to an unanswered cry!
No. Not in the review of my life’s sin
Have I found punishment, or court, or trial,
Or sentence of mankind, or prison wherein
I might drink drops of poison from a phial,
Or retribution that could half begin
To be so bitter as love’s cold denial.