And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,

Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run

For such as I to take or leave withal,

In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,

Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.

What can I give thee b九九藏書ack, O liberal

The colors from my life, and left so dead

High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?

Ungratefu九*九*藏*書l, that for these most manifold

And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done

Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.

An九_九_藏_書d laid them on the outside of the-wall

And princely giver, who hast brought the gold

To give the same as pillow to thy head.