1] HOW steep the stairs within King's houses are
2] For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
3] And O how salt and bitter is the bread
4] Which falls from this Hound's table,better far
5] That I had died in the red ways of war,
6] Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,
7] Than to live thus, by all things comraded
8] Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.
9] Curse God and die: what better hope than this?
10] He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss
11] Of his gold city, and eternal day
12] Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars
13] I do possess what none can take away,
14] My love, and all the glory of the stars.