Better I drown myself in song than sorrow
And better yield to scents and fumes which swoon;
None greater bane than love, none greater boon,
No greater cause to dream and dread the morrow.
No slower poison, yet none deadlier-
No crueller death, and yet none as divine;
No sourer grape was crushed to wine as fine,
No quicker whip, yet none a swifter spur.

No greater birth or death than that of Love!-
For it inspires, as it takes away
And leaves a specter, leaves a lovelorn shadow;
So ere I beg my death of callous Jove,
Let be deceive myself in music gay-
Better I drown myself in song than sorrow.