I Cannot Tell, Of Twain Beneath This Bond, Which One In Grief The Other Goes Beyond,--- Narcissus, Who To End The Pain He Bore Died Of The Love That Could Not Help Him More; Or I, That Pine Because I Cannot See The Lady Who Is Queen And Love To Me. Nay--For Narcissus, In The Forest Pond Seeing His Image, Made Entreaty Fond, "Beloved, Comfort On My Longing Pour": So For A While He Soothed His Passion Sore; So Cannot I, For All Too Far Is She--- The Lady Who Is Queen And Love To Me. But Since That I Have Love'S True Colours Donned, I In His Service Will Not Now Despond, For In Extremes Love Yet Can All Restore: So Till Her Beauty Walks The World No More All Day Remembered In My Hope Shall Be The Lady Who Is Queen And Love To Me.