Three Golden Threads (After de Lisle.)

Like yonder swallow, I would soar away,—
    Above the sea, far from this buzzing mart ;
But how can I?      A cruel, little fay
    Has fettered with three golden threads my heart.

Her honeyed tongue the one ; her eyes the other ;
    The third her lips ; and that completes her art.
No fruits from other gardens can I gather,
    For she has tied with golden threads my heart.

O, how I would asunder rend my chain,
    And from the tears and pangs of love depart ;
Ah, no!  ’tis better that I die in pain
    Than break the golden threads of my poor heart.