We merry all appear;And as it in the fight may chance,
Wildly produceth hoarse tones out of the clamorous horn.Cymbals and drums resound; we see and we hear, too, the marble.
She to-day at dawn of morningPraying comes to Ganges' waters,Bends her o'er the glassy surface--Sudden, in the waves reflected,Flying swiftly far above her,From the highest heavens descending,She discerns the beauteous formOf a youth divine, createdBy the God's primeval wisdomIn his own eternal breast.
'Tis there, 'tis there,That I with thee, protector, would repair!
[The Chorus gradually approaches, from the distance.]
The priest in his sacred dress,And ask'd: "Would ye twain be united?"
On soul and body, heavily oppress'd;To mournful phantoms was my sight a prey,
Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary,
Yes, the leaf with its hues feeleth the hand all divine,And on a sudden contracteth itself; the tenderest figures
And still fairer is the bride,When in me she will confide,When she speaks and lets me knowAll her tale of joy and woe.All her lifetime's historyNow is fully known to me.Who in child or woman e'erSoul and body found so fair?
And the boy was captured straight.
Wife and children slaughter they;And we allHasten to a certain fall.
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