Wer wollte sich mit Grillen plagen, &c.
Who--who would think of sorrowing
In hours of youth and blooming spring,
When bright cerulean skies are o’er us,
And sun-lit paths before us--
Who--who would suffer shade to steal
Over the forehead’s vernal light,
Whilst young Hope in her heav’n-ward flight
Oft turns her face round to reveal
Her bright eye to the raptur’d sight--
Whilst Joy, with many smiles and becks,
Bids _us_ pursue the road _he_ takes.
----Still, as erst, the fountain plays,
The arbour’s green and cool,
And the fair queen of night doth gaze
On earth, as chastely beautiful
As when she op’d her wond’ring eyes
First--on the flowers of Paradise.
Still doth, as erst, the grape-juice brighten
The heart in fortune’s wayward hour--
And still do kindred hearts delight in
Affection’s kiss in evening-bower.
Still Philomela’s passionate strain
Bids long-fled feelings come again.
The world, to _me_, is wond’rous fair--
So fair, that should I cease to hold
Communion with its scenes so dear,
I’d think my days were nearly told.