I cannot drink, nor bind a garland on,
Alas! my dancing days are done!
But hold—Why do these tears steal from my eyes?
My lovely Ligurinus, why?
Why does my falt'ring tongue disguise my voice
With rude and inarticulate noise?
O Ligurin! 'tis thou that break'st my rest,
Methinks I grasp thee in my breast:
Then I pursue thee in my passionate dreams
40O'er pleasant fields and purling streams.