Page:The Queens Court Manuscript with Other Ancient Bohemian Poems, 1852, Cambridge edition.djvu/116

Yet though her love be not to blame,
She cruel anguish gives;
And I must bear it evermore;—
She asks not whom she rives.
My mind doth drive me on to love,
O happy, happy me!
And now my highest gladness is
Blest through the eyes to be.
For all my joyance through the eyes
Into my loving bosom flies.
Love grows increasing by-and-bye
In clearer, brighter sympathy,
Because I gave her heart and mind.
She is a fount of bliss refin’d,
She the beginning is of mirth,
My anguish and my joy on earth.
E’en as sweet dews the rose-bud sips,
When from its swathings free,
E’en so I kiss’d her honied lips,
O happy happy me!
In vain to understand I try,
How happy in thy love am I;
Love banish’d is by anguish strong,
Pain comforts, love doth pine and long.
Love will accuse me—Ah! for why?
Love cannot me accuse, that I