Now would I sing, since time and place
Are mine,—and oh! with thee
May this my song obtain the grace
My purpose claims for me.
I wake these notes on song intent,
But call it rather a lament.
Do thou, beloved, now delight
In these my flowers, pure and bright,
Rejoicing with thy friend;
Now let us banish pain and fear,
For, if our joys are measured here,
Life’s sadness hath its end.
And I will strike, to aid my voice,
The deep, sonorous chord;
Thou, dancing, in these flowers rejoice
And feast Earth’s mighty Lord;
Seize we the glories of to-day,
For mortal life fleets fast away.—
In Ocblehacan, all thine own,
Thy hand hath placed the noble throne.
Which thou hast richly dressed;
From whence I argue that thy sway
Shall be augmented day by day,
In rising greatness blessed.