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162

XI
AN ASPIRATION

It is no fault of the loved one,
If I cannot discover
Whether my heart be worthy
To be the heart of her lover.
It is no blot on her beauty
That makes me wonder and waver,
If to fly the might of her magic,
Or ask the seal of her favour.
Who could so look onward and upward
In the faith of his own heart-merits,
When she, young star of the maidens,
By birth a kingdom inherits?
O Love, who o'er earth and heaven
Art more than king, O! before her
Bow down, proud Love, in thy glory
While in thee I kneel and adore her!
O star-drop of liquid silver
That quivers and flames in the zenith!
Say, what is this entrancement,
Or what this misery meaneth?

163

The sapphire spaces about thee
With the light of thy looks thou palest:
What art thou in thine own heaven,
If here thou so prevailest?
Must the spaces that part us
Still spread darker and wider?
Can she stoop from her splendour.
Stoop, and set me beside her?
Can I climb to her beauty,
My star with glory above her?
Or is she too high in heaven
For me to take her and love her?