Maids, not to you my mind doth change

XXXIII

Ταῖς κάλαις ὕμμιν [τὸ] νόημα τὧμον
οὐ διάμειπτον·

MAIDS, not to you my mind doth change ; 
Men I defy, allure, estrange, 
Prostrate, make bond or free : 
Soft as the stream beneath the plane 
To you I sing my love's refrain ; 
Between us is no thought of pain, 
Peril, satiety. 

Soon doth a lover's patience tire, 
But ye to manifold desire 
Can yield response, ye know 
When for long, museful days I pine, 
The presage at my heart divine ; 
To you I never breathe a sign 
Of inward want or woe. 

When injuries my spirit bruise, 
Allaying virtue ye infuse 
With unobtrusive skill:
And if care frets ye come to me 
As fresh as nymph from stream or tree, 
And with your soft vitality 
My weary bosom fill.