From the French by Harriet Waters Preston
      COME, lady, to my song incline,
      The last that shall assail thine ear.
      None other cares my strains to hear,
And scarce thou feign’st thyself therewith delighted!
Nor know I well if I am loved or slighted;
But this I know, thou radiant one and sweet,
That, loved or spurned, I die...