 | Rhapsodies |  |
139
PARODY.
[Begone; I'll hear no more of love]
Begone; I'll hear no more of love;
Its galling pangs no more I'll prove;
But range o'er hills, o'er dales, and fields,
And taste the joys which freedom yields.
Its galling pangs no more I'll prove;
But range o'er hills, o'er dales, and fields,
And taste the joys which freedom yields.
There will I climb among the rocks,
Or with the shepherds feed their flocks;
Or angle near the water falls,
And hear the birds' sweet madrigals.
Or with the shepherds feed their flocks;
Or angle near the water falls,
And hear the birds' sweet madrigals.
No more I'll weave thee wreaths of roses;
No more remember fragrant posies;
No more cull flowers to deck thy kirtle,
Entwin'd with sprigs of blooming myrtle.
No more remember fragrant posies;
No more cull flowers to deck thy kirtle,
Entwin'd with sprigs of blooming myrtle.
140
I will not pluck the lamb's soft wool;
The vine's enlivening fruit I'll pull;
And then defy the winter's cold,
Thy charms, and man's dear idol—gold.
The vine's enlivening fruit I'll pull;
And then defy the winter's cold,
Thy charms, and man's dear idol—gold.
Away, straw belts and ivy buds;
Away with clasps and amber studs;
Nor these, nor thou, again shalt move
My stubborn heart to melt with love.
Away with clasps and amber studs;
Nor these, nor thou, again shalt move
My stubborn heart to melt with love.
From dawn till eve I'll drink and sing,
And toast with wine each May morning:
These are the joys my mind shall move;
Hail, Bacchus, hail! farewell to love!
And toast with wine each May morning:
These are the joys my mind shall move;
Hail, Bacchus, hail! farewell to love!
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