STROPHE I.[n92]
Chorus.

O would some stroke of Fate—no dull disease

Life’s strings slow-rending,

No bed-bound pain—might bring, my smart to soothe,

The sleep unending!

For he, my gracious lord, my guide, is gone,

Beyond recalling;

Slain for a woman’s cause, and by the hands

Of woman falling.

STROPHE II.