Song to a Certain Girl
Chorus
I' D raise a tune so rantingly
With light heart, nothing daunting me,
So gladsome, joyous wantonly,
Preparing me for courting.
O fairy! off to the moon with thee,
Thy place amid the planets be;
Earth is no dwelling place for thee
But the heavens bright and dazzling.
Unless goddess come from heaven thou be,
There's not found yet the like of thee;
'Twere not for us to talk of thee,
Since mix with you we dare not.
But as thou'rt an earthly entity,
I'll make the attempt expected me,
My imagination's aim will be,
To put thy name yet higher.
Brighter than the white sun art thou
On top rims of the mountain's brow,
On rough-bounds shedding a red glow
About the gloaming seasons.
The sweet theme of all poets thou,
Their music, airs, and wonder too;
The minuet thou well could do
And the quadrilles of the Spaniards.
The glittering crown of a queen for thee
With French silk gold embroidery;
And, all unmatched, thou young fairy,
'Mong ladies with thy beauty.
Dukes will be humbly pleasing thee,
And falling on their knees to thee,
The look serene of thy face to see
From death a rescue new to them.
I' D raise a tune so rantingly
With light heart, nothing daunting me,
So gladsome, joyous wantonly,
Preparing me for courting.
O fairy! off to the moon with thee,
Thy place amid the planets be;
Earth is no dwelling place for thee
But the heavens bright and dazzling.
Unless goddess come from heaven thou be,
There's not found yet the like of thee;
'Twere not for us to talk of thee,
Since mix with you we dare not.
But as thou'rt an earthly entity,
I'll make the attempt expected me,
My imagination's aim will be,
To put thy name yet higher.
Brighter than the white sun art thou
On top rims of the mountain's brow,
On rough-bounds shedding a red glow
About the gloaming seasons.
The sweet theme of all poets thou,
Their music, airs, and wonder too;
The minuet thou well could do
And the quadrilles of the Spaniards.
The glittering crown of a queen for thee
With French silk gold embroidery;
And, all unmatched, thou young fairy,
'Mong ladies with thy beauty.
Dukes will be humbly pleasing thee,
And falling on their knees to thee,
The look serene of thy face to see
From death a rescue new to them.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.