Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/325

Rh O, happy land! his tenderest care Thee, favoured! the Creator yields, And kindest smile: ne'er from thy fields Again may fate me fiercely tear! O, let my last sun light me there! How sweet it is to hear the rain, My love! so softly falling thus On the low roof that shelters us! And the winds whistling o'er the plain And bellowings of the distant main. Fill high my cup with golden wine; Let cares and griefs be driven away; That proved by thee, my thirst to stay, Will, my adored! more precious shine, So touch'd by those sweet lips of thine. By thee on easy seat reclined, My lyre how happy will I string; My love and country's praise to sing; My blissful lot, thy face and mind, And love ineffable and kind!