“O thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth’s canopy, how often have ye heard the strains of my lament, the wild blows dealt against this bleeding breast, when dark night fails!”

“Send to me my brother; for I have no more the strength to bear up alone against the load of grief that weighs me down.”

“I know my own passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the causes are so dire, will never curb these frenzied plaints, while life is in me.” 

“But never will I cease from dirge and sore lament, while I look on the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day.”