O fair beloved, fine lady of mine!
May the Wind come summoned by the whispers of thine
May the Stars spring blossom, bearing thy burdens ahigh
And may never the Sun wretch thy wings in thy flight

Could I candle the moonlight, I would charm it for thee
Could I prelate the midnight, I would vanish thy fears
Could I cloth proud the heath, fields of mead I would give
But our hearts had now breathed,

And they struggle to live...