Chambertin
The blackest skies are bright when thou art near;
Pain is a myth, and sorrow a refrain;
Life, blood and vigor spurtle in each vein,
And even the lurking tomb is no more drear.
The joyous heart knows naught of Autumn's sere,
In woman's kiss there is no hidden bane;
The monarch of the land deserves his reign,
The poor have rubies and all life is dear!
Alas, 't is but a dream; yet, from thee came
The prowess of Napoleon the Great,
Who loved thee while his conquered foes did yield.
From thee was born fierce Borodino's flame,
Jena's stupendous charge of deathly hate,
And the red ruin of Marengo field!
Pain is a myth, and sorrow a refrain;
Life, blood and vigor spurtle in each vein,
And even the lurking tomb is no more drear.
The joyous heart knows naught of Autumn's sere,
In woman's kiss there is no hidden bane;
The monarch of the land deserves his reign,
The poor have rubies and all life is dear!
Alas, 't is but a dream; yet, from thee came
The prowess of Napoleon the Great,
Who loved thee while his conquered foes did yield.
From thee was born fierce Borodino's flame,
Jena's stupendous charge of deathly hate,
And the red ruin of Marengo field!
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