I'll be your comrade true;
Here to your service I will bind me;
Beck when you will, I will not pause or rest;
But in return when yonder you will find me,
Then likewise shall you be at my behest.

The yonder is to me a trifling matter.
'tis from this earth my pleasure springs,
And this sun shines upon my suffering;
If to the moment I shall ever say:
'Ah, linger on thou art so fair!'
Then may you fetters on me lay,
Then I will perish, then and there!