Young men, exulting in their youth,
Prefer tumultuous love in truth.
With them excitement’s all the fashion,
And soul-enthralling mutual passion.
No longer young, bereft of power,
As I, alas! am at this hour,
I fain once more would love in quiet,
And happy be,—without a riot.
10. SOLOMON.
The drums, trumps, cornets at length sink to slumber;
By Solomon’s couch, as he lieth sleeping,
Full-girded angels the watch are keeping,
On either side six thousand in number.
The monarch protect they from cares while dreaming,
And as he frowns in his slumbers nightly,
From out of their sheaths straight draw they lightly
Twelve thousand swords, all fiercely gleaming.
But presently back in their sheaths are falling
The angels’ swords. The brow of the sleeper
Grows smooth, his slumber is softer and deeper,
And soon his lips are gently calling:
“O Sulamith, thou whom so dearly I cherish!
“O’er countries and kingdoms I rule, great and glorious,
“Of Israel and Judah the monarch victorious,
“But if thou’lt not love me, I wither and perish.”
11. LOST WISHES.
Similar in disposition,
Like a brother link’d to brother,
We unconsciously were ever
Growing fonder of each other.
Each one knew the other’s meaning,
Just as if we were omniscient;
Words, in fact, we found superfluous,
And a look was quite sufficient.