Love Misinterpreted.

Se l'immortal desio.     If the undying thirst that purifies             Our mortal thoughts, could draw mine to the day,             Perchance the lord who now holds cruel sway             In Love's high house, would prove more kindly-wise.     But since the laws of heaven immortalise             Our souls, and doom our flesh to swift decay,             Tongue cannot tell how fair, how pure as day,             Is the soul's thirst that far beyond it lies.     How then, ah woe is me! shall that chaste fire,             Which burns the heart within me, be made known,             If sense finds only sense in what it sees?     All my fair hours are turned to miseries             With my loved lord, who minds but lies alone;             For, truth to tell, who trusts not is a liar.