Bradamante the Brave

Is the one I love running from me?

Must I pray to one who does not answer?

Does he need some heaven-born goddess

to descend and change his stubborn heart?

He knows how I worship and adore him,

yet he does not want me as lover or slave.

He knows how I ache and die for him,

Yet he does not come to my aid.

Love! Stop his running! So much faster than mine.

Or at least, let me be as I was,

Before I was your or anyone's slave.

Ah, I know it's in vain asking for your mercy.

Desire makes me soar on wings,

Flying so high my wings catch fire.

I fall and rise again, even higher,

Only to burn and fall again.

I weep for myself, not desire.

I let desire into my breast.

It puts me on a charger without rein,

I know it brings me to my death.

What fault, save loving you, did I commit?

Why should I use defences to prevent

Beauty consumate to give me delight?

Wretched and blessed is he who shuns the sun.