Sonnets from the Portuguese: VIII

What can I give thee back, O liberalAnd princely giver, who hast brought the goldAnd purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,And laid them on the outside of the wallFor such as I to take or leave withal,In unexpected largesse? am I cold,Ungrateful, that for these most manifoldHigh gifts, I render nothing back at all?Not so; not cold,-but very poor instead.Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have runThe colours from my life, and left so deadAnd pale a stuff, it were not fitly doneTo give the same as pillow to thy head.Go farther! let it serve to trample on.