My favorite studies I neglected quite; And those things vain appeared, compared with which, I used to think all other pleasures vain.
Ah! how could I have changed so utterly? How could one passion all the rest destroy? Indeed, what helpless mortals are we all!
My heart my only comfort was, and with That heart, in conference perpetual, A constant watch upon my grief to keep.
My eye still sought the ground, or in itself Absorbed, shrank from encountering the glance Of lovely or unlovely countenance;
The stainless image fearing to disturb, So faithfully reflected in my breast; As winds disturb the mirror of the lake.
And that regret, that I could not enjoy Such happiness, which weighs upon the mind, And turns to poison pleasure that has passed,
Did still its thorn within my bosom lodge, As I the past recalled; but shame, indeed, Left not its cruel sting within this heart.
To heaven, to you, ye gentle souls, I swear, No base desire intruded on my thought; But with a pure and sacred flame I burned.
That flame still lives, and that affection pure; Still in my thought that lovely image breathes, From which, save heavenly, I no other joy,
Have ever known; my only comfort, now!