O dear, how, my love, how can I stay strong
In this wild age, when soul to flesh conforms,
As madness reigns over where truth belongs?
To see tawdry shows become beauteous forms,
Salubrious grace by morbid wit replaced,
And ideal love from romances banished,
And ravishing gifts by wanton will misplaced,
And virtuous innocence basely ravished?
What arguments, my dear, can I secure
To guard against the world’s scourging fever,
Or what higher power can I adjure,
Without being a false believer?
There’s none, in truth, save with true love I’m fed,
Or else my end is set, with me mad or dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem