Now, you great stanza, you heroic mould,
Bend to my will, for I must give you love:
The weight in the heart that breathes, but cannot move,
Which to endure flesh only makes so bold.
Take up, take up, as it were lead or gold
The burden, test the dreadful mass thereof.
No stone, slate, metal under or above
Earth, is so ponderous, so dull, so cold.
Too long as ocean bed bears up ocean,
As earth’s core bears the earth, have I borne this;
Too long have lovers, bending for their kiss,
Felt bitter force cohering without motion.
Staunch meter, great song, it is yours, at length,
To prove how stronger you are than my strength.