IX br br Can it be right to give what I can give? br To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears br As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years br Re-sighing on my lips renunciative br Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live br For all thy adjurations? O my fears, br That this can scarce be right! We are not peers, br So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve, br That givers of such gifts as mine are, must br Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas! br I will not soil thy purple with my dust, br Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass, br Nor give thee any love—which were unjust. br Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.