In my breast, a yearning still
What strange wonder do I see?Can it be?All my limbs of power are reft.And all strength my hand has left.Can it he?None are strangers that I see!And our brethren 'tis who goOn before, the way to show!Oh, the reckless impious ones!How they, with their jarring tones,Beat the time, as on they hie!Quick, my brethren!--let us fly!
When strange contending feelings dimly cover,Now us, and now the forms that round us hover;One's feelings by no other are supplied,'Tis dark without, if all is bright inside;An outward brightness veils my sadden'd mood,When Fortune smiles,--how seldom understood!Now think we that we know her, and with mightA woman's beauteous form instils delight;The youth, as glad as in his infancy,The spring-time treads, as though the spring were heRavish'd, amazed, he asks, how this is done?He looks around, the world appears his own.With careless speed he wanders on through space,Nor walls, nor palaces can check his race;As some gay flight of birds round tree-tops plays,So 'tis with him who round his mistress strays;He seeks from AEther, which he'd leave behind him,The faithful look that fondly serves to bind him.
Ah, the word whose sound can straight
The shell must needs give way.'Tis thus my numbers fall
From bill to vale, from land to sea to fly.
Thou coldly didst the blind repel.
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