I never shall rejoice in cold esteem,

When you deny your flesh with regal pride

To common wenches and their brazen dream.

You held aloof from them and yet you sighed.

Your hands, indeed, must all in vain be wrung

For draught of solace from a higher sphere,

Oh, would that from a mother I were sprung

So I myself could bring it to you here!

Whether you begged or bade imperiously,

No double red would pour into my face.

I should surround you with a silken sea,

On sumptuous purple yield to your embrace.

But I can only soothe with phantom kiss,

A child of buoyant cloud and crystal air,

I cleave through chaos, sing your state of bliss,

And bear as I divine you also be