BE void of feeling!
A heart that soon is stirr'd,
Is a possession
Upon this changing earth.
Behrisch, let spring's sweet
Never gladden thy brow!
Then winter's gloomy
Never will shadow it o'er.
Lean thyself ne'er on a
Sorrow-engendering breast.
Ne'er on the arm,
Misery-fraught, of a friend.
Already
From out his rocky
Upon thee
The force of his lynx-like eyes,
Stretches his talons,
On thee falls,
In thy
Cunningly plants them.
Strong are his skinny arms,
As panther-claws;
He shaketh thee,
And rends thy frame.
Death 'tis to part,'Tis threefold
To part, not
Ever to meet again.
Thou wouldst rejoice to
This hated land behind,
Wert thou not chain'd to
With friendships flowery chains.
Burst them!
I'll not repine.
No noble
Would stay his fellow-captive,
If means of flight appear.
The
Of his dear friend's
Gives him
In his dungeon.
Thou go'st,—I'm left.
But e'en
The last year's winged
Whirl round the smoking axle.
I number the
Of the thundering wheel;
The last one I bless.—Each bar then is broken,
I'm free then as thou!
