_The Speech Of Night._

Caro m' è'l sonno.

Sweet is my sleep, but more to be mere stone, So long as ruin and dishonour reign; To bear nought, to feel nought, is my great gain; Then wake me not, speak in an undertone!

LAMENT FOR LIFE WASTED.

Ohimè, ohimè!

Ah me! Ah me! whene'er I think Of my past years, I find that none Among those many years, alas, was mine; False hopes and longings vain have made me pine, With tears, sighs, passions, fires, upon life's brink. Of mortal loves I have known every one. Full well I feel it now; lost and undone, From truth and goodness banished far away, I dwindle day by day. Longer the shade, more short the sunbeams grow; While I am near to falling, faint and low.