O doleful issue of my happiness!
Weep, little maid, for one that loved me!
O might I with my last of mortal breath
Bid him the cruel treachery to flee,
And hear his voice and sink to happy death,
So still might live the one that lovéd me!
Cease, kindly maid, arise, and whisper low,
As moon to weeping clouds, until there rise
Like pallid rainbow, wan with spectral glow,
A thing of fearful joy athwart my skies,