Sweet girl, though only once we met, 
That meeting I shall ne’er forget; 
And though we ne’er may meet again, 
Kemembrance will thy form retain. 
I would not say, “ I lore,” but still 
My senses struggle with my will; 
In Tain to drive thee from my breast. 
My thoughts are more and more represt; 
In vain I check the rising sighs. 
Another to the last replies; 
Perhaps this is not love, but yet 
Our meeting I can ne’er forget. 
Since, oh! whate’er my future fate. 
Shall joy or woe my steps await. 
Tempted by love, by storms beset. 
Thine image I can ne’er forget. 
Bteon. 
