'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis now of Fate, On rock or whirlpool his riven heart must break. Was ever knight in such a parlous strait? Doth Fortune evermore her son forsake? Ah, only ye who met and loved too late Can judge of Love's illimitable ache! He now endured, not sought his wife's caress— What pity won gave love but one tear less. |