XXX
Reading edition
CONSIGN me not, while honoring thy love, To the sad realm of lovers who have lost The prize, that oft to them their life hath cost; Nor send me from th’ Olympian height above This poor, imperfect life wherein we move, Deep down into the nether world. At most, Have pity on a lover that thou dost Not have the heart to readily reprove. My own, my loved one, oh, receive from Heaven That which I pray for nightly, ere I lay My suffering soul to rest! I would that I Had power to give what Nature hath not given To thy dear self, and that this looked-for day Might yet be borne upon thee, by and by!