Yvette
Oh, much I hated her, la belle Marquise,
And yester morn I did betray her there,
Just in the moment God gave o’er my soul!
And she is dead—I cannot bring her back.
Oh, swift the madness passed and came remorse,
And I did hate myself, and strove to save!—
Oh, woe, and double woe! He promised me!
Oh, I have striven with a fiend from hell
And not prevailed, though sorely I did strive!