That from yon bright region flows,Ever clear and never failing.
How shall I fly?Forestwards hie?Vain were all strife!Bright crown of life.Turbulent bliss,--Love, thou art this!
And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;So I gently approach'd, and she let me stand there,
Below once lay a cellar,
"If the husband, the father, thus treats you with scorn,If the holiest bonds by him rashly are torn,
Throughout the night, that endless seem'd,And for her mother's help to cry
A very human flood, in-press'dHer cousins came, her aunts peer'd in,
So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!Whate'er to his treasures the niggard may add,Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,For gladness lends over its charms to the glad,
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