previous next

107

(743)
He thence departs a heavy convertite; (744)

She there remains a hopeless castaway; (745)

He in his speed looks for the morning light; (746)

She prays she never may behold the day, (747)

'For day,' quoth she, 'night's scapes doth open lay,
(748)
And my true eyes have never practised how (749)

To cloak offences with a cunning brow.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: