Heroes Served

Upon the silent Danube’s shore, When ev’ning wastes, ’tis sweet to see (Their golden wine cups flowing o’er); Our heroes in their revelry.

A youthful beauty pours the wine, And each will pledge a cup to her; And each of charms that seem divine, Would fain become a worshiper.

“Nay! heroes, nay!” the virgin cried, “My service—not my love—I give: For one alone—for none beside: For one alone I love and live.”