XIX.

I left you in the midmost of July,
To-day, my friends in winter I behold.
Then in the heat ye basked so warm and bright,
But now ye have grown cool, yea, even cold.

Soon I depart again, and come once more,
Then shall I find you neither warm nor cold.
And I shall moan lamenting o'er your graves,
And mine own heart shall then be poor and old.

LXX.

Oh, to be chased from lovely lips! and torn
From lovely arms that clasped as in a dream.
I fain had stayed with thee another morn.
Then came the postboy with his tinkling team.

E'en such is life, my child, a constant moan--
A constant parting, evermore good-byes,
Could not thy heart cling fast unto mine own?
Couldst thou not hold me steadfast with thine eyes?

LXXI.

All night, in the shadowy post-chaise,
We drove through the winter weather.
We slept on each other's bosoms,
We jested and laughed together.

But how were we both astonished,
When morning bade us stir,
Betwixt us two sat Cupid,
The blindfold passenger.

LXXII.

Lord knows where the reckless creature
Chose her transient stopping-place!
Swearing through the rainy weather,
Everywhere I seek her trace.

I have been to every tavern
Running up and running down,
And of every surly waiter
Made inquiries in the town.

Lo, I see her in yon window!
And she beckons--all is well!
Could I guess that you had chosen,
Lady, such a grand hotel?

LXXIII.

Like shadows black the houses
Uprise in long array.
Enveloped in my mantle
I hurry on my way.

The old cathedral-belfry
Chimes midnight grave and slow.
With all her charms and kisses
My love awaits me now.

The moon is my companion,
Kind-beaming from the sky
I reach the house beloved,
And joyously I cry--

"I thank thee, trusty servant,
That thou hast cheered my way.
And now, dear moon, I leave thee.
On others shed thy ray.

"And if a lonely lover
Who sings of grief, thou see,
Oh give him such sweet solace
As thou hast given me."

LXXIV.

Wert thou, in sooth, mine honored wife,
Then shouldst thou envied be;
A merry pastime were thy life--
All pleasure, mirth, and glee.

And should'st thou scold, and rail and curse,
I'd meekly bear my fate;
But if thou do not praise my verse,
Then shall we separate.

LXXV.

Upon thy