She was courtly,
Oh! Stately was she!

But woe to her! --
      the seller of love;
            seeker of empathy.

What more poorer than her a soul
         could be? --
                  A morsel of love for a penny.

What more colder
         than a night as hers--
                 To slumber in as if a hearse?

Oh, woe to her! --
      the seller of love;
           seeker of empathy.

And what more worse
       could a mishap be--
                Than feast in the banquet
                        of the ****** and the guilty?

How more cursed
        could a creature be--
                 Than thrive in another's lustful  
                          idolatry?

Oh, woe to her! --
      the seller of love;
            seeker of empathy.

She vends fondness
       she never can receive,
             forth with the saintdom
                      she ne'er can retrieve.

What other vying
         is greater than hers--
            To state the malison
                 of the welkin terse?

And she prays to the dimmest sky;
       to the starless horizon she cries,
           "Woe! -- woe is me! --
                     the seller of love;
                           seeker of empathy."