Of Haydn’s love; or tell my own to Haydn;
Or if he loved me, since my sister’s words.
If only he could know my soul in truth,
I felt that I could suffer all things then;
Could die, if so the veil about my heart
Withdrawn could be, and show him how I loved.
Alas, I did not know then, had not learn’d,
That love may more endure than even death.
XVIII.
The sunset brought Doretta to my room;