FULL well I know what love does mean,
Full well its force and tyranny,
And captive in love's chains have been
Since first I set my eyes on thee.

No fancy, whim, or idle dream,
To love like mine could e'er give birth,
Which, flowing from the purest stream,
Owns, for its source, superior worth.

The angel form of her I love
Reflects the beauty of her mind,
Where all the virtues sweetly move,
In joy and harmony combin'd.

Bless'd with her love, all other charms
With coldness I could learn to view,
And in the heaven of her arms
Taste raptures ever young and new.

For her, could fame and wealth despise,
In poverty and toil feel blest,
Drink sweet delusion from her eyes,
Or smile at ruin on her breast.

But to endure her loss or hate
All human efforts would be vain;
No balm could heal, no charms abate,
Or soothe such agony of pain.

Vain world, adieu! in fervent pray'r
I'd bless her with my latest breath,
And, robb'd of all my soul held dear,
Seek refuge in the arms of death.