The winter is gone, Beloved, arise! The spring is come on, The birds are all singing: Beloved, arise!
The roses are springing; Earth laughs out in love: Beloved, arise! And thou, my sweet dove! O waste not thy time: Beloved, arise.
Enjoy the sweet bliss Of a kiss—of a kiss: Beloved, arise In the hour of thy prime, Beloved, arise! S. J. B.
LXIII
MOHAMMEDAN SONG
I have piercing eyes—the eyes of falcons: I am of undoubted noble lineage: I can read the heart of Osman Aga: I was ask'd by Osman Aga's mother:
"Cursed witch: and yet most lovely maiden! Why with white and red dost paint thy visage? Fascinate no longer Osman Aga! I will speed me to the verdant forest, Build me up of maple-trees a dwelling, And lock up within it Osman Aga."
Then the maid replied to Osman's mother: "Lady Anka! Osman Aga's mother— I have falcon eyes—and eyes of devils: With them I can ope thy ample dwelling— With them visit, too, thy Osman Aga." S. J. B.