The last time I came o’er the moor,And left Maria’s dwelling,What throes, what tortures passing cure,Were in my bosom swelling:Condemn’d to see my rival’s reign,While I in secret languish;To feel a fire in every vein,Yet dare not speak my anguish.8
Love’s veriest wretch, despairing, IFain, fain, my crime would cover;Th’ unweeting groan, the bursting sigh,Betray the guilty lover.I know my doom must be despair,Thou wilt nor canst relieve me;But oh, Maria, hear my prayer,For Pity’s sake forgive me!16
The music of thy tongue I heard,Nor wist while it enslav’d me;I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear’d,Till fear no more had sav’d me:The unwary sailor thus, aghast,The wheeling torrent viewing,’Mid circling horrors yields at lastTo overwhelming ruin.24