XII. Joy of my soul! My blindfold eyes’ clear light!

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

JOY of my soul! My blindfold eyes’ clear light!

Cordial of heart! Right methridate of love!

Fair orient pearl! Bright shining margarite!

Pure quintessence of heaven’s delight above!

When shall I taste, what favour grants me touch;

And ease the rage of mine so sharp desire?

When shall I free enjoy, what I so much

Do covet; but I doubt in vain, to aspire?

Ah, do not still my soul thus tantalise;

But once, through grace, the same imparadise!