Madam Fortune, thou in vain
Act’st the coy one! I can gain
By my own exertions merely
All thy favours prized so dearly.
Thou art overcome by me,
To the yoke I fasten thee;
Thou art mine beyond escaping—
But my bleeding wounds are gaping.
All my red blood gushes out,
My life’s courage to the rout
Soon is put; I’m vanquish’d lying,
And in victory’s hour am dying.