41
Haste, my Ceba to the bower,
Love demands one social hour;
Here the tamarind waves its head,
And weeping gums their spicy riches shed.
Come listen to the pleasing sound
Of all the dashing falls around;
Of all the birds that sweetly sing,
While the mountain-echoes ring:
To me their carols seem to say,
"Lovely Ceba, haste away."
Here the tamarind waves its head,
And weeping gums their amber riches shed.
Come, repose my lovely maid,
Beneath the arching plaintain's shade;
Hasten Ceba, hasten here,
Fragrant lemons blossom near;
Long lianas, blue and red,
Fringing o'er the rocks are spread;
Here the tamarind waves its head,
And weeping gums their balmy riches shed.
Hasten, hasten, then my love,
To the arbour, to the grove.
