XVIIIO sweetheart, hear youYour lover’s tale;A man shall have sorrowWhen friends him fail.For he shall know thenFriends be untrueAnd a little ashesTheir words come to.But one unto himWill softly moveAnd softly woo himIn ways of love.His hand is underHer smooth round breast;So he who has sorrowShall have rest.
O sweetheart, hear youYour lover’s tale;A man shall have sorrowWhen friends him fail.For he shall know thenFriends be untrueAnd a little ashesTheir words come to.But one unto himWill softly moveAnd softly woo himIn ways of love.His hand is underHer smooth round breast;So he who has sorrowShall have rest.