When I presage the time shall come—yea, now

Perchance is come, when you shall fail from me,

Because the mighty spirit, to whom you vow

Faith of kin genius unrebukably,

Scourges my sloth, and from your side dismissed

Henceforth this sad and most, most lonely soul

Must, marching fatally through pain and mist,

The God-bid levy of its powers enrol;

When I presage that none shall hear the voice

From the great Mount that clangs my ordained advance,

That sullen envy bade the churlish choice

Yourself shall say, and turn your altered glance;

O God! Thou knowest if this heart of flesh

Quivers like broken entrails, when the wheel

Rolleth some dog in middle street, or fresh

Fruit when ye tear it bleeding from the peel;

If my soul cries the uncomprehended cry

When the red agony oozed on Olivet!

Yet not for this, a caitiff, falter I,

Beloved whom I must lose, nor thence regret

The doubly-vouched and twin allegiance owed

To you in Heaven, and Heaven in you, Lady.

How could you hope, loose dealer with my God,

That I should keep for you my fealty?

For still ’tis thus:—because I am so true,

My Fair, to Heaven, I am so true to you!