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 There do my loud sighs wed them to the wind,

And harps æolian in the grotto play;

Be present to my eyes—as to my mind—

Hither again—O hither bend thy way.

' the dark foliage in the full-moon's light

Thou didst first fan the fire of holiest love;

There did my pure lips pledge their early plight,

While listening nightingales were group'd above.

Hear (saidst thou) hear my words than blue-bright heaven;

Hear them, thou moon! whom yon fair stars attend;

And if I leave thee—curs'd and unforgiven

Let poison with each breeze, each breathing blend.

wilt see, bewitching, blinding maids,

Maids who o'er youth's fond dreams supremely reign;

And thou wilt then forget Bohemia's shades,

And thou wilt wear affection's foreign chain.

Those ringlet-tresses—those black, beaming eyes

I know they will intoxicate—I know

How they will dazzle—while thy Kraska flies

Fading and fading more—and dwells with woe.