Dejection

Not a man on all the earth
Is truly happy save him solely,
Who ne'er won aught that's dearly worth,
And turns his heart from such things wholly.
He's free from grief and languishing
Which many a man to death will bring,
When he has fairly earned reward,
Yet unrewarded still must go;
There's nought in life so bitter hard,
As all too well, alas, I know,
For I am troubled even so.

Misfortune now a greeting sends,
(So sore a grief assailed me never)
That I must bid adieu to friends
With whom I fain would bide for ever.
By my true faith this sorrow's brought;
Does faith avail my soul in aught?
It gives the body nothing more
Save that the livelong day 'tis pined.
My constancy oft grieves me sore:
I cannot banish from my mind
The lady whom I found so kind.