The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.

The Moon and Pleiades have set, / Midnight is nigh, / The time is passing, passing, yet / Alone I lie.

I do not know what to do, my mind's in two.

Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak, falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.

Love shook my heart/ Like the wind on the mountain/ Troubling the oak-trees