As, in Time's deep sea, love abiding.
Bewitched I am by the summer night,
In silent thought I am riding;
The nightingale sings from the myrtle tree,
He warbles so meltingly, tenderly,
As if Fate his heart had been blighting.
Bewitched I am by the summer night,
In silent thought I am riding;
The sea rises high, the waves do frown;
Wherefore these useless tears which down