C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Song: ‘My lady dearly loves a pretty bird’

Translation of Edgar Taylor

MY lady dearly loves a pretty bird,

That sings and echoes back her gentle tone;

Were I, too, near her, never should be heard

A songster’s note more pleasant than my own,—

Sweeter than sweetest nightingale I’d sing.

For thee, my lady fair,

This yoke of love I bear:

Deign thou to comfort me, and ease my sorrowing.

Were but the troubles of my heart by her

Regarded, I would triumph in my pain;

But her proud heart stands firmly, and the stir

Of passionate grief o’ercomes not her disdain.

Yet, yet I do remember how before

My eyes she stood and spoke,

And on her gentle look

My earnest gaze was fixed: oh, were it so once more!