I cursed the hills up which we slowly dragged,
The long, flat plains of Lombardy I cursed,
That kept me back from Venice.
But at last in a black gondola I swam along
The sea-built city, and my heart was big
With the glad thought that I was near to him.
Yes, gladness came upon me that soft night,
And jealousy was hushed, and hope led on
My dancing heart. In vain I strove to curb
My glad impatience—I must see him then,