IF the loved one, the well-known one,Should return as he departed,On his lips would ring my kisses,Though the wolf's blood might have dyed them;And a hearty grasp I'd give him,Though his finger-ends were serpents.
And gazed on the summit so steep.
Sooner or later, ev'ry earthly foe--That faith which, soaring to the realms of light,
He with this was not content,
Oh, thou villain child of hell!
Myriad souls of living men?
Fall foaming through the wheel,Though people often tell
Of thine Alexis, thy friend,--ah, thy betrothed as well!Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain. Our hearts are still throbbing,
In the place my art foretold
But what effect will all the words convey
Haunt me with their tone,Joy and grief in turns I know,
WHENCE comes our friend so hastily,