Perch' Io T' Abbia Guardato Di Menzogna. In Her Presence He Can Neither Speak, Weep, Nor Sigh. Although From Falsehood I Did Thee Restrain With All My Power, And Paid Thee Honour Due, Ungrateful Tongue; Yet Never Did Accrue Honour From Thee, But Shame, And Fierce Disdain: Most Art Thou Cold, When Most I Want The Strain Thy Aid Should Lend While I For Pity Sue; And All Thy Utterance Is Imperfect Too, When Thou Dost Speak, And As The Dreamer'S Vain. Ye Too, Sad Tears, Throughout Each Lingering Night Upon Me Wait, When I Alone Would Stay; But, Needed By My Peace, You Take Your Flight: And, All So Prompt Anguish And Grief T' Impart, Ye Sighs, Then Slow, And Broken Breathe Your Way: My Looks Alone Truly Reveal My Heart. Nott. With All My Power, Lest Falsehood Should Invade, I Guarded Thee And Still Thy Honour Sought, Ungrateful Tongue! Who Honour Ne'er Hast Brought, But Still My Care With Rage And Shame Repaid: For, Though To Me Most Requisite, Thine Aid, When Mercy I Would Ask, Availeth Nought, Still Cold And Mute, And E'En To Words If Wrought They Seem As Sounds In Sleep By Dreamers Made. And Ye, Sad Tears, O' Nights, When I Would Fain Be Left Alone, My Sure Companions, Flow, But, Summon'D For My Peace, Ye Soon Depart: Ye Too, Mine Anguish'D Sighs, So Prompt To Pain, Then Breathe Before Her Brokenly And Slow, And My Face Only Speaks My Suffering Heart. Macgregor.