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 glances, graces,airs?

Why fragant locks, coil on 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.