Ballad. In the Shepherdess of the Alps

When jealous out of season,
When deaf and blind to reason,
Of truth we've no belief;

With rage we're overflowing,
Nor why, nor wherefore knowing,
And the heart goes throb with grief.

II.

But when the fit is over,
And kindness from the lover
Does every doubt destroy,

Away fly thoughts alarming,
Each object appears charming,
And the heart goes throb with joy.
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