The Affliction Of Richard

Love not too much. But how, When thou hast made me such, And dost thy gifts bestow, How can I love too much? Though I must fear to lose, And drown my joy in care, With all its thorns I choose The path of love and prayer.

Though thou, I know not why, Didst kill my childish trust, That breach with toil did I Repair, because I must: And spite of frighting schemes, With which the fiends of Hell Blaspheme thee in my dreams, So far I have hoped well.

But what the heavenly key, What marvel in me wrought Shall quite exculpate thee, I have no shadow of thought. What am I that complain? The love, from which began My question sad and vain, Justifies thee to man.

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Since to be loved endures, To love is wise: Earth hath no good but yours, Brave, joyful eyes:

Earth hath no sin but thine, Dull eye of scorn: O'er thee the sun doth pine And angels mourn.

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