SONG.-Don Ant. Tell me, my lute, can thy soft strain So gently speak thy master's pain? So softly sing, so humbly sigh, That, though my sleeping love shall know Who sings-who sighs below, Her rosy slumbers shall not fly? Thus, may some vision whisper more Than ever I dare speak before. I. Mas. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing so dolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody. Don Ant. I do not wish to disturb her rest.

Media	Boeken Paperback Book (Boek met zachte kaft en gelijmde rug)
Vrijgegeven	17 mei 2017
ISBN13	9781546653738
Uitgevers	Createspace Independent Publishing Platf
Pagina's	70
Afmetingen	152 × 229 × 4 mm · 104 g
Taal en grammatica	Engels