Page:Poetry of the Magyars.djvu/198

92 II. DAL. 130.

Alig nézi magát körǘl.

upon the troubled ocean

Doth life's steersman seek a home,

Ere he feels an awful motion

Drag him downwards to the tomb.

In the very bud of being

Lies the hidden seed of death;

And we feel, and hear, and see in

All, perdition's withering breath.

'Tis a hasty, busy meeting,

An eternal farewell greeting,

Hurrying all our paths along

Life as fugitive as song.