You, as Hecate, doom me to stray
A hundred years, live and dead, among the shades:
As Diana, in the sky you’d have me stay,
From which you stoop to these our mortal glades:
As the Queen of these infernal masquerades,
You will augment or lessen all such pain.
But as the Moon, infused in every vein
You were, and are, and shall be DÉLIE,
Whom Love so entangles with my brain
That death itself could never set me free.
~Maurice Scève, Délie: XXII (translated)
#poetry #romance
