That throws to the wind the wild stream of its mane,
Strode he forth by the prince and the slave!
6.
Life, like a spring-day, serene and divine,
In the star of the morning went by as a trance;
His murmurs he drown'd in the gold of the wine,
And his sorrows were borne on the wave of the dance.
Worlds lay conceal'd in the hopes of his youth,
When once he shall ripen to manhood and fame!
Fond Father exult!--In the germs of his youth