GALATEA.
Whither shall I turn mine eyes
In the woe that is at hand,
If my troubles nearer stand,
As my bliss the further flies?
I am doomed to grievous pain
By the grief that bids me roam:
If it slays me when at home,
When abroad what shall I gain?
Just obedience, hard to bear!
For I have the 'yes' to say
In obedience, which some day
My death-sentence shall declare;
I am set such ills among,
That as happiness 'twould be
Counted, if life were to me
Wanting, or at least a tongue.
Brief the hours, ah! brief and weary
Have the hours been of my gladness
Everlasting those of sadness,
Full of dread and ever dreary;
In my happy girlhood's hour
I enjoyed my liberty,
But, alas! now slavery
O'er my will asserts its power.
Lo! the battle cruel doth prove,
Which they wage against my thought,
If, when they have fiercely fought,
I love not, yet needs must love;
Oh displeasing power of place!
For, in reverence of the old
I my hands must meekly fold
And my tender neck abase.
What! have I farewell to say,
See no more the golden river,
Leave behind my flock for ever,
And in sadness go away?
Shall these trees of leafy shade,
Shall these meadows broad and green
Never, nevermore, be seen
By the eyes of this sad maid?
Ah! what doest thou, cruel sire?
Lo! the truth is known full well,
That thou from me life dost steal
In fulfilling thy desire;
If there is not in my sighs
Power to tell thee my distress,
What my tongue cannot express,
Mayst thou learn it from my eyes.
Now I picture in its gloom
The sad hour when we must sever,
The sweet glory, lost for ever,
And the mournful, bitter, tomb;
Unknown husband's joyless face,
Troubles of the toilsome road,
And his aged mother's mood,
Peevish, for I take her place.
Other troubles will begin,
Countless heartaches will annoy,
When I see what giveth joy
To my husband and his kin;
Yet the fear I apprehend
And my fortune pictureth,
Will be ended soon by death,
Which doth all our sorrows end.