Wast thou and thou alone youth’s own true love,
Thy sunny gaze did ever before him beam,
And dreams of thee his martial moments filled;
For thee his shining sword he drew in dream,
In dream his warmest blood for thee he spilled.
In slav’ry’s night wast thou a star to man,
Though far, though unattainable, alas!
’Twas thou that through his thoughts forever ran,
The goal of all his hopes to thee did pass;
And as a promised land beckst thou afar