… They’ve set a fierce guard on my girl tonight.
Her door is closed. The bar has locked it tight.
You, and your master, door, do me no good.
May storms lash you, may lightning strike your wood!
Open for me, just me (then I won’t hound
you anymore). Open without a sound.

Losing all the nice military imagery, but hey, it’s fun to rhyme:

Bring me more wine, more wine to stop this pain,
so sleep at last can close my eyes again.
Leave me to Bacchus, don’t give me a shake:
my luckless love has been too long awake. …

that gods* built