In my fond bosom, pure from every stain.
And if thou deem’d that all my faithful grief,
Caused by thy loss, and hopeless of relief,
Can merit thee, sweet native of the skies!
Oh! ask of Heaven, which call’d thee soon away,
That I may join thee in those realms of day,
Swiftly as thou hast vanish’d from mine eyes.
“Que estranho caso de amor!”
How strange a fate in love is mine!