O beautiful Laetitia,
Your form by Nature made, Lovelier than the flowers That grace a summer glade, What sweet and tender torture It is to see your eyes, Though only in an image; My heart they crystallize And shatter it as surely As steel must vanquish glass. O merciless Laetitia, My torments never pass! Mellifluous as music, Your name is joy enshrined; A richly perfumed blossom Around my soul entwined. How wonderful, how exquisite, How glorious are you; A star that shines eternal For all the world to view! O kindly fair Laetitia, If these poor lines you read, I live and die a poet; A joyful man indeed!
They praise your name in old Marseilles And in Saint Jean de Luz, Where sunshine on a summer’s day Cannot inspire the Muse As surely as the thought of you Inspires my noblest art, As surely as the love of you Sustains my beating heart.
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