Heart's beloved, if thou art hid from me,Thy form stands present 'twixt my ribs, I see;
And if thou shouldst exchange my love for scorn,Past beauty's memory shall my soul adorn.
Thy phantom stands in every sight I view,Thy radiance gathers all bright splendour through;
O my companion, come—for IPass the night in wakeful agony.
No night brings rest, no converse sweet and near,Thy love is duty—this is nature's sphere;
My passion grieves me, makes me weep,Melancholy rules me, steals my sleep.
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