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LYRICAL POEMS.
II.
O MY son, when first thou camest
Into this world’s paradise,
All around thee then was smiling,
Thou alone hadst weeping eyes.
Be it ever thy endeavour,
That, when thy last hour is come,
When around thee all is weeping,
Thou with smiles may’st meet thy doom!
III.
SON belovéd! if in bondage
Man the nightingale doth bring,
He to all things can constrain him,
All, but out of love to sing.
Even so, when man his fellow
With despotic rule doth sway,
Easily he can compel him
Humble reverence to pay;
Timidly to quail before him,
Kiss the scourge that gives him pain;—
He to all things can constrain him,
But his love he cannot gain!
