All moveless in her dark bright eye
The tear from anguish shone,
She felt too keen to heave a sigh,
Too deep to breathe a groan.
How Werther can thy soul endure
To blight a heart so kind and pure.

Why press those balmy lips of love?
Why clasp that form divine?
Her vows are breathed, and seal'd above,
But ah! they are not thine!
How Werther can thy soul endure
To blight a heart so kind and pure.

Thou see'st that feeling heart is broke;
That lovely form must fade;
Thy death cannot thy wrong revoke,
So rash but fondly made!
How Werther can thy soul endure
To blight a heart so kind and pure.