Page:Poetry of the Magyars.djvu/173

Rh TO MY JOY-GIVER.

Milliok között sincs egy kit a' fene.

the earth's many millions, none like me

Hath the blind Ate marked for sorrow—none;

Each, each his share of gloom and grief may see,

Yet have their guardian angels every one.

I have no guardian angel—left alone

By heaven and by the world; and misery

E'en in my bone-pith—helpless, woe-begone;

No balsam—nought but tears, shed ceaselessly.

E'en Eros multiplies my sad alarms:

"Let Ate's anger sooth his joys," he said;

And Sophie slumbered sweetly in my arms:

Now is a light upon my darkness shed;

And I, by love's strong influence shielded o'er,

Hear Ate's savage threatenings no more. Rh