Page:Translations (1834).djvu/56



dark-eyed maid my love has won, And hence all food and rest I shun. Oh, did my heart another prize, None but the fool would deem me wise! Girl of my love, and can it be, That the luxuriant birchen tree Of summer has no charms for thee? That thou dost ceaselessly repeat Thy psalter in yon still retreat? And that, oh, star-hued maid! thou art Of yonder holy choir a part?
 * Hence with the bread and water—hence

With the vile cresses—and dispense With Pater Nosters—and give o’er The Romish monks’ religious lore: Join not in spring the devotees, Groves are more bright than nunneries! Thy vows, oh, beauty, bright and mild! With love can not be reconciled; The ring, the cloak, and verdant dress Are better pledge of holiness.