Wine, No. 38

With song I seek my fate to cheer, As doth the swan when death draws near; Youth's roses from my cheeks retire, My heart is worn with fond desire. Since care and woe increase and grow, while light burns low, Poor wretch I die! Heigho! I die, poor wretch I die! Constrained to love, unloved; such luck have I!

If she could love me whom I love, I would not then exchange with Jove: Ah! might I clasp her once, and drain Her lips as thirsty flowers drink rain! With death to meet, his welcome greet, from life retreat, I were full fain! Heigho! full fain, I were full fain, Could I such joy, such wealth of pleasure gain!

When I bethought me of her breast, Those hills of snow my fancy pressed; Longing to touch them with my hand, Love's laws I then did understand. Rose of the south, blooms on her mouth; I felt love's drouth That mouth to kiss! Heigho! to kiss, that mouth to kiss! Lost in day-dreams and vain desires of bliss.