Meleager
Would God he had found me
Beneath fresh boughs
Would God he had bound me
Unawares in mine house,
With light in mine eyes, and songs in my lips,
and a crown on my brows!
CHORUS.
Whence art thou sent from us?
Whither thy goal?
How art thou rent from us,
Thou that wert whole,
As with severing of eyelids and eyes,
as with sundering of body and soul!
Meleager
My heart is within me
As an ash in the fire;
Whosoever hath seen me,
Without lute, without lyre,
Shall sing of me grievous things,
even things that were ill to desire.
CHORUS.
Who shall raise thee
From the house of the dead?
Or what man praise thee
That thy praise may be said?
Alas thy beauty! alas thy body! alas thine head!