II
Reading edition
I DARE not tell thee half the love I bear, Stored in this amorous bosom, oh, my heart, Lest thou believe me mad, and we should part; As with the one, whose love I first did share. Stirred in hot haste my heaven to declare, I wooed too warmly, while young Cupid’s dart, Plunged ’neath my breast, saw happiness depart, Just as I hoped Love’s magic crown to wear. Long have I mourned; yet now that thou art found, My folly would repeat its youthful test; Yea, with a thousand follies, at the sound Of love, once more begotten in my breast. Still hold me, Sorrow! Wisdom would resound Within my soul, and whisper what is best!