What ails thee,my silly heart?

What balm for your ache,at last?

I adore him, he repels,

What,s the matter, O my Lord?

I too have a tongue, I too can speak,

Would that you ask, what I crave!

When none apart from you exists,

Why this struggle and alarm, O God?

What sort are these fairy-faced folk?

What these glance, graces,airs?

Why fragrant locks,coil and coil?

And what this antimonial glance?

Whence have sprung the verdure and bloom?

What is a cloud, what the breeze?

I expect fidelity from him,

Who knows not what fidelity means.