Albanio

I was considering what a painful state This strange, sad exile is; for, to my mind, Nor woods, nor oceans warred on by the wind, Nor moated towers, nor mountains, pathless proved, Nor others' sweet society beloved, Cuts us asunder, but a slender wall Of water, lucid, but preventing all The blissful union we desire so much; For from that surface where we all but touch Thou never dost depart, and seemest never Satiate with gazing, by each fond endeavour Of becks, and smiles, and gestures, signifying Desire of junction, duteous, but denying; Brother, reach out thy arm, that we may shake Hands like good friends, and for past friendship's sake, Once more embrace! ha! mock'st thou me? dost thou Fly from me thus? 'tis acting not, I vow, As a friend should; I from the fountain's froth Am dripping wet, and thou, too, art thou wroth— Poor Sir Unfortunate? ha! ha! how swift Thy—what is it? thy figure thou dost shift; Ruffled, disturbed, and with a writhen face! That this unlucky thing now should take place! I was consoled in seeing so serene Thy amorous image and thy smiling mien. No happy thing with me will now endure!