读吧，可爱的仙女，不要因为读而颤抖，我不再希望，你也不再害怕;我不求生命，因为生命对我来说是徒劳的，而死亡只是逃避更大痛苦的避难所。在这最后几行中，我尝试着我唯一的希望——我会被同情，然后死去。长久以来，我和命运一样，过着卑贱的生活，命运也不诅咒我，使我卑贱地等待，做一个奴隶，满足于家常的食物，追求幸福的粗俗本能:青春使我夜不能寐，热血沸腾。野心从未触动过我的胸膛;我的主人知道没有比这更好的休息了;劳动使人健康，服从使人幸福。但当我看到——啊!要是我从未见过那令人伤心的温柔，那迷人的神态就好了!耻辱、恐惧、欲望、绝望和爱情涌上心头，这是那双美丽眼睛的新产物。 But yet that love pursu'd no guilty aim; Deep in my heart I hid the secret flame: I never hop'd my fond desire to tell, And all my wishes were to serve you well. Heav'ns! how I flew when wing'd by your command, And kiss'd the letters giv'n me by your hand. How pleas'd, how proud, how fond I was to wait, Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate! How, when you sung, my soul devour'd the sound, And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd! Though bid to go, I quite forgot to move; -- You knew not that stupidity was love! But oh! the torment not to be express'd, The grief, the rage, the hell, that fir'd this breast, When my great rivals, in embroidery gay, Sate by your side, or led you from the play! I still contriv'd near as I could to stand (the flambeau trembling in my shaking hand); I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press'd, For thus their passion by my own I guess'd, And jealous fury all my soul possess'd. Like torrents, love and indignation meet, And madness would have thrown me at your feet. Turn, lovely nymph (for so I would have said), Turn from those triflers who make love a trade; This is true passion in my eyes you see; They cannot, no -- they cannot love like me; Frequent debauch has pall'd their sickly taste, Faint their desire, and in a moment past; They sigh not from the heart, but from the brain; Vapours of vanity and strong champagne. Too dull to feel what forms like yours inspire, After long talking of their painted fire, To some lewd brothel they at night retire; There, pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms, Enjoy your beauties in a strumpet's arms. Such are the joys those toasters have in view, And such the wit and pleasure they pursue; -- And is this love that ought to merit you? Each opera night a new address begun, They swear to thousands what they swear to one. Not thus I sigh -- but all my sighs are vain -- Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain: 'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to complain. Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease, I waited not the aid of slow disease; The keenest instruments of death I sought, And death alone employ'd my lab'ring thought. This all the night -- when I remember well The charming tinkle of your morning bell! Fir'd by the sound, I hasten'd with your tea, With one last look to smooth the darksome way -- But oh! how dear that fatal look has cost! In that fond moment my resolves were lost. Hence all my guilt, and all your sorrows rise -- I saw the languid softness of your eyes; I saw the dear disorder of your bed; Your cheeks all glowing with a tempting red; Your night-clothes tumbled with resistless grace, Your flowing hair play'd careless down your face Your night-gown fasten'd with a single pin; -- Fancy improv'd the wondrous charms within! I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast, And hardly, hardly, I forbore the rest: Eager to gaze, unsatisfied with sight, My head grew giddy with the near delight! -- Too well you know the fatal following night! Th'extremest proof of my desire I give, And since you will not love, I will not live. Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom. Careless and fearless of the woes to come. But when you see me waver in the wind, My guilty flame extinct, my soul resign'd, Sure you may pity what you can't approve, The cruel consequence of furious love. Think the bold wretch, that could so greatly dare, Was tender, faithful, ardent, and sincere; Think when I held the pistol to your breast, -- Had I been of the world's large rule possess'd, -- That world had then been yours, and I been blest; Think that my life was quite below my care, Nor fear'd I any hell beyond despair. -- If these reflections, though they seize you late, Give some compassion for your Arthur's fate: Enough you give, nor ought I to complain: You p