All the remainingRaces so poorOf life-teeming earth.In children so rich.Wander and feedIn vacant enjoyment,And 'mid the dark sorrowsOf evanescentRestricted life,--Bow'd by the heavyYoke of Necessity.
Says the Count with a smile, half-asleep;--
An ape I would be,Full of mischievous glee;If aught came to vex thee,I'd plague and perplex thee.An ape I would be,Full of mischievous glee
Kisses greet me, without end.
Beside the queen that minute;Near her mouth broke the cup,--and she got so wet!
Theseus, could'st thou e'er fly, whilst Ariadne thus slept?Only one single kiss on these lips! Oh, Theseus, now leave us!
These but offend, and I would fain repel.Yearnings unquenchable still drive me on,All counsel, save unbounded tears, is gone.
Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge?The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge;In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood,The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood.Know'st thou it well?
But courage! while our sorrows utter weIn tones where love, grief, gladness have a share.
Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.
Where'er our foot we set,
Thus doth the kernel, while dry, cover that motionless life.Upward then strives it to swell, in gentle moisture confiding,
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