1181.

I willed my lover absent should remain;

Of pining's sickly hue to whom shall I complain?

1182.

'He gave': this sickly hue thus proudly speaks,

Then climbs, and all my frame its chariot makes.

1183.

Of comeliness and shame he me bereft,

While pain and sickly hue, in recompense, he left.

1184.

I meditate his words, his worth is theme of all I say,

This sickly hue is false that would my trust betray.

1185.

My lover there went forth to roam;

This pallor of my frame usurps his place at home.

1186.

As darkness waits till lamp expires, to fill the place,

This pallor waits till I enjoy no more my lord's embrace.

1187.

I lay in his embrace, I turned unwittingly;

Forthwith this hue, as you might grasp it, came on me.

1188.

On me, because I pine, they cast a slur;

But no one says, 'He first deserted her.'

1189.

Well! let my frame, as now, be sicklied o'er with pain,

If he who won my heart's consent, in good estate remain!

1190.

'Tis well, though men deride me for my sickly hue of pain;

If they from calling him unkind, who won my love, refrain.