No! I this conflict longer will not wage, <br /> The conflict duty claims--the giant task;-- <br />Thy spells, O virtue, never can assuage <br /> The heart's wild fire--this offering do not ask <br /> <br />True, I have sworn--a solemn vow have sworn, <br /> That I myself will curb the self within; <br />Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn-- <br /> Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin. <br /> <br />Rent be the contract I with thee once made;-- <br /> She loves me, loves me--forfeit be the crown! <br />Blessed he who, lulled in rapture's dreamy shade, <br /> Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down. <br /> <br />She sees the worm that my youth's bloom decays, <br /> She sees my spring-time wasted as it flees; <br />And, marvelling at the rigor that gainsays <br /> The heart's sweet impulse, my reward decrees. <br /> <br />Distrust this angel purity, fair soul! <br /> It is to guilt thy pity armeth me; <br />Could being lavish its unmeasured whole, <br /> It ne'er could give a gift to rival thee! <br /> <br />Thee--the dear guilt I ever seek to shun, <br /> O tyranny of fate, O wild desires! <br />My virtue's only crown can but be won <br /> In that last breath--when virtue's self expires!<br /><br />Friedrich Schiller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-conflict/
