Speechless with bitter smart,Thou Lookest up towards thy dying son.
THE waters rush'd, the waters rose,
What at first had been but art,
And for him, also, the fig strengthening honey doth yield!Doth she entice him as well to the arbour? He follows? Oh, make me
Life is one continued feast--(If we keep no score, at least).If now we together dwell,Will true love remain as well?For if that should e'er decay,Happiness would pass away.Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
Earnestly answer'd the son:--"You are wrong, dear-mother, one day isUnlike another. The youth soon ripens into his manhood.Ofttimes he ripens better to action in silence than livingThat tumultuous noisy life which ruins so many.And though silent I have been, and am, a heart has been fashion'dInside my bosom, which hates whatever unfair and unjust is,And I am able right well to discriminate secular matters.Work moreover my arms and my feet has mightily strengthen'd.All that I tell you is true; I boldly venture to say so.And yet, mother, you blame me with reason; you've caught me employingWords that are only half true, and that serve to conceal my true feelings.For I must need confess, it is not the advent of dangerCalls me away from my father's house, nor a resolute purposeUseful to be to my country, and dreaded to be by the foeman.Words alone it was that I utter'd,--words only intendedThose deep feelings to hide, which within my breast are contending.And now leave me, my mother! For as in my bosom I cherishWishes that are but vain, my life will be to no purpose.For I know that the Unit who makes a self-sacrifice, onlyInjures himself, unless all endeavour the Whole to accomplish."
With resistless might?Was I, then, not truly blest already
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