Joy would my heart be swelling,
Tears from mine eyes be welling.
Would I then say, Stay with me here,
Henceforth I'll murmur never;
Alas! my son! wert thou but near!
No, but come quickly hither
Thou fiery car, and take me where
My child and all the blessèd are,
Who speak of things so glorious,
O'er every ill victorious.