Love, Love! Who hath bestowed on the power

To hurt so deep and strike that lasting hour?

For of all gods who roam this sacred sphere,

None can compare to the most blessed here. 

A youthfulness gave now his dearest pride,

He cannot keep it when time ere has died,    

It may be none escape age's swift advance;  

We often fear more than what we chance.

Its prowess strong enough our hearts grieve o'er; 

Faithful in love 'tis ever a bore,

But those lovelorn days will pass away soon:

For Youth and Love together, they bloom.

Fairly like friends unite within their cause,

When ready smiles, not one life shall pause.