To pay his ransom man must toil
With Reason's implement alone
...
|
So proud your port, your arm so powerful. |
Then I will dream of blue horizons deep; |
I know your heart, which overflows |
Here is a woman, richly clad and fair, |
I am as lovely as a dream in stone, |
Thou, O my Grief, be wise and tranquil still, |
Should dream that eagles and insects, streams and woods, |
Robed in a silken robe that shines and shakes, |
I'm like some king in whose corrupted veins |