Singers and brothers learnèd in the lore
1
Of loving of fair faces, and all ye
That love one lady, and one lady more;
Yea! count not on two hands your gallantry,
So moved to all of lovesome shape are ye,
5
Ever with longing fain that finds no rest,
I pray you answer this sad word for me:
Why do we break the heart we love the best?
Dead men had knowledge of this heretofore,
9
Even the lords of Love's high chivalry
Whose names still, darkened not, in heaven soar:
Lancelot and Tristan knew this perfidy,
Though never man had such immortal She;
13
'Twas not enough God gave His loveliest,
To save their mortal eyes from glamory—
Why do we break the heart we love the best?
Yet true—one hallowed face we but adore,
17
Of our heart's treasure hers alone the key,
And, should God take her, ever at His door
We knock with anguish through Eternity,
In hell forever once her face to see,
21
Seeking it ever in a fearful quest,
'Tis a strange riddle I propose, perdie,—
Why do we break the heart we love the best?
God, that hath all sad mortal men in fee,
25
O why, with witchcraft hair and lunar breast,
Has Thou encompassed us with sorcery?
Why do we break the heart we love the best?