Page 25 - The She-Bear

art enclosed within this hairy lanthorn!
Wherefore all this trifling? Do you wish to see
me pine and pant, and die by inches? I am
wasting away; without hope, and tormented by
thy beauty. And you see clearly the proof, for I
am shrunk two-thirds in size, like wine boiled
down, and am nothing but skin and bone, for
the fever is double-stitched to my veins. So lift
up the curtain of this hairy hide, and let me
gaze upon the spectacle of thy beauty! Raise, O
raise the leaves off this basket, and let me get a
sight of the fine fruit beneath! Lift up that
curtain, and let my eyes pass in to behold the
pomp of wonders! Who has shut up so smooth
a creature in a prison woven of hair? Who has
locked up so rich a treasure in a leathern chest?
Let me behold this display of graces, and take in
payment all my love; for nothing else can cure
the troubles I endure."

25