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Translated by John Bowring
I OFTEN laugh contentedly | |
| On the world’s evil and its good; | |
| Far dearer than the world to me | |
| Is this, my mountain solitude. | |
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| I eat and drink,—my spirit-ease | 5 |
| No legal squabbles drive away; | |
| I lay me down at eve in peace, | |
| And joy awakes me when ’t is day. | |
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| And every cottage is my home, | |
| And every shepherd is my friend! | 10 |
| Their wealth is mine, mine theirs,—they come | |
| In common bliss our bliss to blend. | |
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| Sweet songs I know are sometimes heard, | |
| But none so sweet, so dear as these, | |
| When the gray thrush, ecstatic bird! | 15 |
| O’er Matra pours its ecstasies. | |
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| The robber’s plots, the murderer’s hands, | |
| Intrude not on our mountain glen; | |
| Our robbers are the Wolfine bands, | |
| But not the fiercer bands of men. | 20 |
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| No sorrows make my visage white, | |
| Or from my cheeks their smiles convey; | |
| My pipe I kindle with delight, | |
| While round its smoky volumes play. | |
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| The noonday sun shines hot above, | 25 |
| Then with my herds I hasten home, | |
| Milk the white ewes to please my love, | |
| And know a sweet reward will come. | |
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| Again we seek the hills,—I seize | |
| My furyla, and wake its song; | 30 |
| And, scattering music on the breeze, | |
| I walk my listening sheep among. | |
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| Then to the linden-trees I go,— | |
| Each linden seems to welcome me; | |
| My body on the turf I throw, | 35 |
| Where spread the shadows of the tree. | |
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| But who is there? My rose, my rose! | |
| My heart is buried in her breast, | |
| As in a shrine. O, see! she goes | |
| Clad in her short and modest vest. | 40 |
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| Sweet Pere! ay! thou art as sweet | |
| As is forgiveness; on thy face | |
| I saw two smiling angels meet, | |
| Two little loves thy cheeks did grace. | |
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| Where art thou wandering, Pere! mine! | 45 |
| My flocks are scattered widely now; | |
| For thee I look, for thee I pine; | |
| Sweet maiden! tell me where art thou! | |
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