At rest in bed, I had scarce begun to enjoy the
first silence of night, and to give up my conquered eyes to sleep, when fierce Love
took hold of me and drew me up by the hair, and tore me, bidding me watch till day.
“Ah, my slave,” he said, “thou lover of a thousand girls,
canst thou lie alone here, alone, oh hard of heart?” I leaped up, and
with bare feet and disordered raiment started on every path and found a way by none.
Now I run, now to move is weariness: I repent of turning back, and am ashamed to
halt in the midst of the road. Lo, the voices of men and the roar of the streets,
the singing of birds and the faithful company of watchdogs are all silent. I alone
of all men dread both sleep and my bed, and follow thy command, great Lord of