My own happiness ’tis only
That concerns me, and at times I
Feel inclined to doubt if truly
To the living I belong!
Take me as thy knight, I pray thee,
As thy Cavalier servente,
And thy mantle will I carry
And e’en all thy whims put up with.
Every night I’ll ride beside thee,
With the army wild careering;
Merrily we’ll talk and laugh then
At my frenzied conversation.
Thus the time I’ll shorten for thee
In the night; but yet by day-time
All our joy will fly, and weeping
On that grave I’ll take my seat.
Yes, I’ll sit by day-time weeping
On the regal vault’s sad ruins,
On the grave of thee, my loved one,
By the town Jerusalem.
Aged Jews, who chance to pass me,
Then will surely think I’m sorrowing
For the temple’s desolation,
And the town Jerusalem.
CAPUT XXI.
Argonauts without a ship,
Who on foot the mountain visit,
And instead of golden fleeces
Aim at nothing but a bear’s skin,—
We’re, alas! poor devils only,
Heroes of a modern fashion,
And no classic poet ever
Will in song immortalize us.
Yet we notwithstanding suffer’d
Serious hardships! O what rain
Fell upon us on the summit,
Where no tree or hackney-coach was!