Ah! The sighs that come from my heart
They grieve me passing sore
Sith I must from my love depart
Farewell, my joy, for evermore
Oft to me, with her goodly face
She was wont to cast an eye
And now absence to me in place
Alas! For woe I die, I die
I was wont her to behold
And take in armès twain
And now, with sighès manifold
Farewell my joy and welcome pain
Ah! me think that should I yet
As would to god that I might
There would no joys compare with it
Unto my heart, to make it light
