Færie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a façade; 
serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me? 
mænad, yet the sweetest colleen - 
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine. 

Lorelei, 
poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death, 
Yet who the [bad word] was I to dare? 
Lorelei, 
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art? 
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is? 

Dædally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade, 
For all years a damndest and driegh'd accolade - 
Caus'd for all eyes mazéd to behold a mêlée; 
In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet: 
The one and sole [bad word] that feedeth the fire, 
Bellow´d bidingly by my heart's quailing quire. 

Lorelei, 
poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death, 
Yet who the [bad word] was I to dare? 
Lorelei, 
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art? 
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is? 

Perchance author I thee this ikon'd apologue for aught, 
Doth the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought: 
'Tween Æther and 'Nether art thou the peerless phœnix - 
Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather than the peevish prolix.