And once and again we plighted our troth,
And titter’d, caress’d, kiss’d so dearly;
And lest I should fail to remember my oath,
My hand thou then bittest severely.
O sweetest love, with the eyes so bright,
O sweet one, so fair and so biteful!
The swearing was doubtless all proper and right
But the biting was rather too spiteful!
58.
I stand on the brow of the mountain,
And sentimentally sigh.
“O were I only a bird now!”
I many a thousand times cry.
O were I only a swallow,
My darling, to thee would I fly,
And soon a nest would I build me,
Thy lattice window hard by.
O were I a nightingale only,
I would fly, my darling, to thee,
And sing my sweet songs by night-time
Perch’d high in the green linden tree.
O were I only a bullfinch,
I would fly straight into thy heart;
To the bullfinch thou always wert kindly,
And healest the bullfinch’s smart.[7]
59.
My carriage is traversing slowly
The greenwood merry and bright,
Through flowering valleys, like magic
Illumed by the sun’s glowing light.
I’m sitting and thinking and dreaming,
And muse on my mistress dear;
When, nodding their heads at the window,
Three shadowy figures appear.