Şiir 11
For the sharp medicine is the patient's cure.
How oft you have expos'd me to the cold,
While in your arms you did my rival hold!
How like a slave have I been forc'd to wait
All weathers, and how oft have watched the gate!
25
As if your house was trusted to my care
And I, your sentinel, did duty there.
Oft have I seen your sated lover come
With looks, as if he long'd to be at home.
But what most grated on my jealous mind,
30
Was that he there the waiting fool should find.
That aggravated most the cruel curse;
I would not wish my greatest foe a worse.
How oft have I attended you abroad,
Or in the city, cirque, or on the road ?
35
They took me for your husband by my care,
Or that your guardian or your slave I were.
I by the people's glances, and your own,
Observ'd you were acquainted with the town;
That of your love if I possess'd a part,
40
