Бёрд Уильям - Wounded I am - Yet of us twain - текст песни (слова)

Wounded I am, and dare not seek relief,
 For this new stroke, unseen but not unfelt;
 No blood nor bruise is witness to my grief.
 But sighs, but sighs and tears,
 wherewith I mourn and melt.
 If I complain my witness is suspect.
 If I contain with cares I am undone,
 sit still and die, tell truth and be reject,
 tell truth and be reject,
 O hateful choice that sorrow cannot shun,

 Yet of us twain whose loss shall be the less?
 Mine of my life, or you of your good name,
 light is my death regarding my distress,
 but your offence cries to your defame:
 A virgin fair hath slain for lack of grace,
 the man that made an Idol of her face.