What peril could persist and distract my attention,
When this wrecked soul longs,
But only for your affection
What joy could he hope for; when,
His face is lit with a smile,
But only at your presence.
What touch could entrust in him hope,
When he knows not another day,
But only at your bosoms.
Pity his wrecked heart for he knows not what he does,
With her unknown, he’s better off in dust.