The Affliction of Richard

Love not too much. But how,

When thou hast made me such,

And dost thy gifts bestow,

How can I love too much?

Though I must fear to lose,

And drown my joy in care,

With all its thorns I choose

The path of love and prayer.

Though thou, I know not why,

Didst kill my childish trust,

That breach with toil did I

Repair, because I must:

And spite of frighting schemes,

With which the fiends of Hell

Blaspheme thee in my dreams,

So far I have hoped well.

But what the heavenly key,

What marvel in me wrought

Shall quite exculpate thee,

I have no shadow of thought.

What am I that complain?

The love, from which began

My question sad and vain,

Justifies thee to man.