E’en could I hope to bend her father’s will,
Could he, though giant-like to softness steel’d,
From interested views be taught to yield,
What then? but little comfort this would prove;
The father’s power I court not, but the love
Of his fair daughter. O thou Gerda dear!
Couldst thou but view thy ardent lover here
Immersed in grief profound, thy generous heart
Some words of comfort would, perhaps, impart:
Would give asylum to affection’s sighs,