Madrigal, upon His Departure
Sure, dear, I love you not; for he that loveth,
When he from her doth part,
That's mistress of his heart,
A deadly pain, a hellish torment proveth.
But when sad fates did sever
Me far from seeing you, I would see ever;
I felt in my absenting
No pain, nor no tormenting.
For sense of pain how could he find,
That left his heart and soul behind?
When he from her doth part,
That's mistress of his heart,
A deadly pain, a hellish torment proveth.
But when sad fates did sever
Me far from seeing you, I would see ever;
I felt in my absenting
No pain, nor no tormenting.
For sense of pain how could he find,
That left his heart and soul behind?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.