Tender in love as are our shepherd swains.
Where man, from covering of clay set free,
A winged soul, flies through a joyful heaven.
I could believe it, for in listening thee
I had a foretaste of those wonders even.
Ah! since that time, in good and evil plight,
I dream of thee and those fair heavens bright.
The cross upon thy breast rejoiced mine eyes;
The sign of future bliss therein I read.
Alas! when from the cross the thunder flies,