Angzang seven-foot net

and pain. Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart, And all to her seems flat

and tame; Alone thine image fills her heart, She loves thee with an all -

devouring flame. First came thy passion with o'erpowering rush, Like

mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow; Full in her heart didst pour the

sudden gush, Now has thy brooklet ceased to flow. Instead of sitting throned

midst forests wild, It would become so great a lord To comfort the enamour'd

child, And the young monkey for her love reward. To her the hours seem

miserably long; She from the window sees the clouds float by As o'er the lofty