From Lamartine

O jealous Time! those moments of delight, When Love pours bliss in streams upon the heart, Must they fly from us with as swift a flight As days of ill depart?

Alas! can we not even mark the track? Forever lost! like all that went before! And Time that gave them and then took them back Shall give them back no more!

O Lake, mute rocks and caves and forest shade, Whose beauty Time is powerless to blight, Dear nature, suffer not the thought to fade Of that sweet, happy night!

Still let it live in all thy scene, fair Lake, In calm and storm, and make thy smiles more bright, And every tree and rock new meaning take From that sweet, happy night.

Let it be heard in every passing breeze, And in the sound of shore to shore replying, Let it be seen in every star that sees Its image in thee lying!

And let the moaning wind and sighing reed, And the light perfume of the balmy air, All that is heard or seen or felt declare, “They loved—they loved, indeed!”