Condemn’d to nourish hope in vain,
My breast shall never peace regain;
The fair my soul ador’d the most,
Is to my love for ever lost.
Another--yes--and must we part?---
Another triumphs in her heart:
He tastes those humid lips, which I
To taste, would gladly yield to die.
Distraction---she---of all possest,
He sinks upon her snowy breast:
He clasps her in his eager arms;---
He revels in her sweetest charms.
I hear each soft extatic sigh,
I see her rapture closing eye;
She meets---she crowns his fierce desire,
My brain, despair and madness fire!
* * * * *
* * * *