I FEED a flame within, which so torments me That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me: 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, That I had rather die than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it; My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, My heart 's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel; And while I suffer this to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. To be more happy I dare not aspire, Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.