THE LAST time I came oer the moor,
And left Marias dwelling,
What throes, what tortures passing cure,
Were in my bosom swelling:
Condemnd to see my rivals reign,
While I in secret languish;
To feel a fire in every vein,
Yet dare not speak my anguish.
Loves veriest wretch, despairing, I
Fain, 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 Pitys sake forgive me!
The music of thy tongue I heard,
Nor wist while it enslavd me;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing feard,
Till fear no more had savd me:
The unwary sailor thus, aghast,
The wheeling torrent viewing,
Mid circling horrors yields at last
To overwhelming ruin.
