One would strive in vain;Though a ship with majesty
Fauns are dancing around, while with the Bacchanal troopChequerd circles they trace; and the goat-footed, puffy-cheekd player
Who on the cross for us expired.The triumph to yon realms He shows,--Remote from earth, where star ne'er glows,
Hark! now the curse is straight fulfill'd.
To try his luck at shooting.
Didst thou e'er fancyThat life I should learn to hate,And fly to deserts,Because not allMy blossoming dreams grew ripe?
Far from thee, in life's turmoils nought I seeSave a thin veil, through which thy form I view,As though in clouds; with kindly smile and true,
And they quarrel.--To the monarchComes the matter; and the monarchFain would halve it, like the baker.
And advancing clouds I view;Chords not only grace the lyre,
At thy breath are steeped in tears.