That sings and echoes back her gentle tone;
Were I, too, near her, never should be heard
A songster's note more pleasant than my own;
Sweeter than sweetest nightingale I'd sing.
For thee, my lady fair,
This yoke of love I bear,
Deign thou to comfort me and ease my sorrowing.
"Were but the troubles of my heart by her
Regarded, I would triumph in my pain;
But her proud heart stands firmly, and the stir