In ev'ry place fierce Love, alas, assails me
And Grief doth so torment me
That how can Joy content me
When Hope and Faith and all no whit avails me?
O gentle Love, O grant me less to grieve me
Or grieve me more, and grief will soon relieve me
And Grief doth so torment me
That how can Joy content me
When Hope and Faith and all no whit avails me?
O gentle Love, O grant me less to grieve me
Or grieve me more, and grief will soon relieve me
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