Analysis of The Conflict

No! I this conflict longer will not wage,
 The conflict duty claims--the giant task;--
Thy spells, O virtue, never can assuage
 The heart's wild fire--this offering do not ask

True, I have sworn--a solemn vow have sworn,
 That I myself will curb the self within;
Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn--
 Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin.

Rent be the contract I with thee once made;--
 She loves me, loves me--forfeit be the crown!
Blessed he who, lulled in rapture's dreamy shade,
 Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down.

She sees the worm that my youth's bloom decays,
 She sees my spring-time wasted as it flees;
And, marvelling at the rigor that gainsays
 The heart's sweet impulse, my reward decrees.

Distrust this angel purity, fair soul!
 It is to guilt thy pity armeth me;
Could being lavish its unmeasured whole,
 It ne'er could give a gift to rival thee!

Thee--the dear guilt I ever seek to shun,
 O tyranny of fate, O wild desires!
My virtue's only crown can but be won
 In that last breath--when virtue's self expires!