The Ditty of Love

When from my books I turn to the sight of the world,

I am touched by a prick, which troubles my spirit.

I fancy I hear the sweet voice of my mistress

Speak with a tone that is melting with sadness.

Whenever my mistress raises her voice in song,

The fairies of the mountain reëcho the air.

The fishes in the sea dart about rejoicing,

And the sailors on the deck dance gaily as they hear it.

The rocks upon the mountain split themselves asunder

In hearing her voice and seeing her beauty.

When I cast a glance, which rests upon my mistress,

It seems to me I see the queen of all the maidens.

Her dainty hands are mingled with red and with white,

And her eyes are brilliant as the stars in the sky.

Her two cheeks are roses of a natural color,

And her lips are as sweet as the pure honeycomb.

—
Good morning, my fair maiden, on my knees I fall