And the seal so pure and chaste
By them on my lips was placed.
With her modest pinions, see,
Philomel encircles me!
In these bushes, in yon grove,
Calls she to her sister-throng,
And their heavenly choral song
Teaches me to dream of love.
Fulness waxes in my breast
Of emotions social, blest;
Friendship's nurtured,—love awakes,—
And the silence Phœbus breaks
Of his mountains, of his vales,
Sweetly blow the balmy gales;
All for whom he shows affection,
Who are worthy his protection.
Gladly follow his direction.
This one comes with joyous bearing
And with open, radiant gaze;
That a sterner look is wearing,
This one, scarcely cured, with daring
Wakes the strength of former days;
For the sweet, destructive flame
Pierced his marrow and his frame.
That which Amor stole before
Phœbus only can restore.
Peace, and joy, and harmony.
Aspirations pure and free.
Brethren, rise ye!
Numbers prize ye!
Deeds of worth resemble they.
