Down my cheeks, bitter tears incessantly rain
And my heart struggles with convulsive sighs.
However, when I see that gentle smile again;
That modest, sweet, and tender smile arise,
Lost in delight is all my torturing pain;
It pours on every sense a blest surprise.
Though well you read my heart and knew
How much I longed your charms to view.

While I concealed each tender thought;
Your face, with pity was sweetly shown.
Within that beauty, my fond mind sort
That love, which made your passion known.
Your sunny locks were seen caught short,
Nor smiled your eyes like a precious stone,
And behind a misunderstood cloud retired,
Those beauties, which I most admired.

My flows proper throne is that adorable face,
At times escorts her ‘mid the muses fair;
And so swells in me the fond desire apace,
As each, their beauty is than hers less rare.
So high and heavenward when my eyes do trace,
I say ‘my dove! In grateful memory you I'll bear'.
Yet unsung, sweet maid, your beauties should remain,
Pleasing, within my heart, as none shall ever please again.