I cannot love as I have loved, and yet I know not why. Love sacrifices all things. Over rocks that are steepest, love will find the way. In all I wish, how happy should I be, grand Deluder, were it not for thee?
I gaze on thee, and yearnings, sad in my bosom hide. Love in its essence is spiritual fire.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes. How can you know my sorrow? In her first passion woman loves her lover. Love better is than Fame.
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