For the loss of the tribesmen my life o'er sway！'
Their names when named heal all malady；* Cure and chase from heart every pain I dree：
And my longings for love reach so high degree * That my Sprite is maddened each morn I see；And am grown of the crowd to be saw and say.
No blame in them will I e'er espy： * No！ nor aught of solace sans them descry：
Your love hath shot me with pine，and I * Bear in heart a flame that shall never die；But fire my liver with fiery ray.
All folk my sickness for marvel score * That in darkest night I wake evermore What ails them to torture this heart forlore * And deem right for loving my blood t' outpour：
And yet--how justly unjust are they！
Would I wot who'twas could obtain of you * To wrong a youth who's so fain of you：