From the deep night of the ages, one by one, the stars came, soon
From the mists, o’er darkgreen forests, shimmering appeared the moon.
The great queen of night and oceans, peace and sleep to all things sent.
A young son of our bold ruler watchful sat beside his tent,
Smiling with a dear remembrance, while the calm moon shone above,
On his knee a letter writing, home to send it to his love:
From Rovine, in a dale
Lady mine, I send this mail.
Many things I have to say,
But thou art so far away.
I must send all in a letter,
Since I cannot now do better.
Lady dear this soul of mine
Yearns for all that’s truly thine,
For thine eyes, sweet, smiling, good,
For the springs, the fields, the wood.
Send them, for I too send, dear,
All that is most lovely here,
My proud host with banners glorious,
Over our great foes victorious,
And with them will come together
My bright helm with pea-cock feather
And my brows, my loving eyes:
All to thee, with longing hies.
Thanking Christ, God save my soul!
I am safe and sound and whole.
With my love I send thee this,
Thy sweet lips, sweet soul, I kiss.
Such were those old times that happy chroniclers and poets knew,
Our own age is full of jugglers, mountebanks and all their crew.
In the legends and old annals may the heroes still be found.
Shall I greet with dreamy music, with my lyre and flute’s sweet sound
All these patriots who later in their heritage did follow?
Oh! before all these, with horror, veil and hide thyself, Apollo!
You were hid in glorious shadows of the past, O heroes bold!
But it is the newest fashion, with your fame from annals old
