And Therefore If To Love Can Be Desert, I Am Not All Unworthy. Cheeks As Pale As These You See, And Trembling Knees That Fail To Bear The Burden Of A Heavy Heart, This Weary Minstrel-Life That Once Was Girt To Climb Aornus, And Can Scarce Avail To Pipe Now 'Gainst The Valley Nightingale A Melancholy Music, Why Advert To These Things? O Belov'D, It Is Plain I Am Not Of Thy Worth Nor For Thy Place! And Yet, Because I Love Thee, I Obtain From That Same Love This Vindicating Grace To Live On Still In Love, And Yet In Vain, To Bless Thee, Yet Renounce Thee To Thy Face.