Oenone to Paris.

The fiercest thrust of foemen's steel
Can ne'er such mortal anguish deal
As that the lonely heart doth feel
When love is fled.
The tear stands ever in the eye,
No peace rewards the constant cry;
Ah! Why cannot the body die?
The heart is dead.

My loved one's love is turned from me,
He leaves me here in misery.
Ah! When my soul cries out to thee,
Oh hear me, Death!
Let sweet oblivion come at last;
Let me, forgetting all the past,
Be loosed from pain with welcome blast
Of thy cold breath.

O fearsome Eris, cause of strife
To all that draw the breath of life,
Why should'st thou sunder man and wife
With fruit of gold?
O Aphrodité, goddess fair,
Let Paris still his love declare
To me: restore us as we were
In days of old.

O Paris, still I love thee true,
My tears and prayers thy soul pursue:
Ah, come, the broken vows renew—
I weep for thee.
Return, return! By Ida's rill
Thy promises of love fulfil.
Ah. Paris mine, I love thee still!
Come back to me!