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Poem	[Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.] QUICK throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste, And lo! 'twas done with speed of light; The evening soon the world embraced, And o'er the mountains hung the night. Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak, A tow'ring giant in his size, Where darkness through the thicket broke, And glared with hundred gloomy eyes. From out a hill of clouds the moon With mournful gaze began to peer: The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon, And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear; The night a thousand monsters made, Yet fresh and joyous was my mind; What fire within my veins then play'd! What glow was in my bosom shrin'd! I saw thee, and with tender pride Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me; While all my heart was at thy side. And every breath I breath'd for thee. The roseate hues that spring supplies Were playing round thy features fair, And love for me--ye Deities! I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er! But, when the morning sun return'd, Departure filled with grief my heart: Within thy kiss, what rapture burn'd! But in thy look, what bitter smart! I went--thy gaze to earth first roved Thou follow'dst me with tearful eye: And yet, what rapture to be loved! And, Gods, to love--what ecstasy! 1771.
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