Luyện nghe bài hát Lorelei

Faerie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a
A siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me?
A maenad, yet the colleen -
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly pristine.
Lorelei,
A poet of tragedies, I lauds to Death,
Yet who the hell was I to
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see thou to me art?
thou not see the loss of loe painful is?
Daedally dist thou perform the pasquinade,
For all years a and driegh'd accolade -
Caus'd for all eyes mazed to a melee;
In the midst did I swainly cast my bouquet;
The one and sole that feedeth the fire,
Bellow'd by my heart's quailing quire.
Lorelei,
A of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,
Yet who the was I to dare?
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see to me needful art?
Canst thou not see the of loe painful is?
Perchance author I thee ikon'd apologue for aught,
the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought;
'Tween and 'Nether art thou peerless phoenix -
Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather the peevish prolix.