O wedding-guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
Oh, sweeter than the marriage-feast,
"Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company:
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray;
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maidens gay.
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest;
He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
There was an old woman who had three sons,
Jerry and James and John:
Jerry was hanged, James was drowned,
John was lost and never was found;
And there was an end of her three sons,
Jerry and James and John.
Mira loqvor, conviva; sed olim in marmore vasto
Solus eram mecum. Tam vasto in marmore soli
Vix est visus ibi praesens Deus. Ergo hymenaei
Dulcius est festis, longe mihi dulcius, ire
Ad delubra Dei, magna comitante caterva;
Ire pias una ante aras unaqve precari,
Dum genua aeterno flectunt sua qvisqve Parenti
Longaeviqve senes iunctiqve in amore sodales,
Infantes pueriqve hilares hilaresqve puellae.
Jamqve vale; sed crede mihi, conviva, monenti.
Concipit hic pia vota, pio qvi pectore curat
Humanumqve genus volucresqve et saecla ferarum:
Optima vota facit, cui sunt carissima qvotqvot
Hunc habitant, seu magna sient, seu tenvia, mundum.
Nam bonus ille Deus, qvi nos amat, omnia fecit,
Constantiqve eadem servat, qvae fecit, amore.
Vixit anus qvaedam, cui tres modo filii fuere,
Martinus et Macrinus et Macerra.
Martinus periit turpi cruce, fluctibus Macrinus,
Amissus est Macerra nec repertus.
Sic abolentur, anu qvi tres modo filii fuere,
Martinus et Macrinus et Macerra.
O wedding-guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
Oh, sweeter than the marriag
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the
With a goodly compa
To walk together to
And all together
While each to hi
Old men and b
And youths
Farewell, f
To the
As sweet and sportive hour;
youthful lovers in my shade
Deir vows of truth and rapture made,
And on my trunk's surviving frame
Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound,
First breathed upon this sacred ground;
many a long-forgotten name.
all that Love has whispered here, Or Beauty heard with ravished ear; As Love's own altar, honour me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Nicht aus meinem Nektar hast du die Gottheit getrunken; Deine Götterkraft war's, die dir den Nektar errang.
video redeunte per annos
polum, fronde virere nemus,
qve hiemis vento bacchante procellas
oribus et fructu despoliata fero,
x qvo prima mea lusit sub fronde iuventus,
Struxit et innocuos parvula turba choros,
Umbraqve dilecta puerum cum virgine texit
Mutua qvi laeta pignora mente darent,
Et memori interdum trunco servanda notarent
Nomina, qvae longo iam periere die.
O ego blanda precor per te suspiria et omnes,
Conscia queis fuerunt haec loca sancta, sonos,
Vota per hic laetis totiens audita puellis,
Qvaeqve susurravit verba fidelis amor,
Me precor ut sanctam venerere Cupidinis aram;
Laedere fagineas, rustice, parce comas.
Non bibis aetherio diam de nectare tu vim;
Aetherium nectar vis tibi dia dedit.
The Beech-Tree's Petition.
Oh leave this barren spot to me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Though bush or flowret never grow
My dark unwarming shade below;
Nor summer-bud perfume the dew
Of rosy blush, or yellow hue;
Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born,
My green and glossy leaves adorn;
Nor murmuring tribes from me derive
The ambrosial amber of the hive;
Yet leave this barren spot for me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Thrice twenty summers I have seen
The sky grow bright, the forest green;
And many a wintry wind have stood
In bloomless, fruitless solitude,
Since childhood in my pleasant bower
First spent its sweet and sportive hour;
Since youthful lovers in my shade
Their vows of truth and rapture made,
And on my trunk's surviving frame
Carved many a long-forgotten name.
Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound,
First breathed upon this sacred ground;
By all that Love has whispered here,
Or Beauty heard with ravished ear;
As Love's own altar, honour me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Nicht aus meinem Nektar hast du die Gottheit getrunken ; Deine Götterkraft war's, die dir den Nektar errang.
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