THE YOUTHS

O burning Sun, O master of unrest,
Why must we, toiling, cast away the best,
Now, when the bird sleeps by her empty nest?

See, with my garland lying at her feet,
In lonely labour stands mine own, my sweet,
Above the quern half-filled with half-ground wheat. 
O red taskmaster, that thy flames were done!

THE MAIDENS

O love, to-night across the half-shorn plain
Shall I not go to meet the yellow wain,
A look of love at end of toil to gain? 
What flaming sun can keep us long alone?

THE YOUTHS

To-morrow, said I, is grape gathering o’er;
To-morrow, and our loves are twinned no more. 
To-morrow came, to bring us woe and war.

What have I done, that I should stand with these
Hearkening the dread shouts borne upon the breeze,
While she, far off, sits weeping ’neath her trees? 
Alas, O kings, what is it ye have done?

THE MAIDENS

Come, love, delay not; come, and slay my dread! 
Already is the banquet table spread;
In the cool chamber flower-strewn is my bed: 
Come, love, what king shall keep us long alone?

THE YOUTHS

O city, city, open thou thy gate! 
See, with life snatched from out the hand of fate! 
How on thy glittering triumph I must wait!

Are not her hands stretched out to me?  Her eyes,
Grow they not weary as each new hope dies,
And lone before her still the long road lies? 
O golden city, fain would I be gone!

THE MAIDENS

And thou art happy, amid shouts and songs,
And all that unto conquering men belongs. 
Night hath no fear for me, and day no wrongs. 
What brazen city gates can keep us, lone?

THE YOUTHS

O long, long road, how bare thou art, and grey! 
Hill after hill thou climbest, and the day
Is ended now, O moonlit endless way!

And she is standing where the rushes grow,
And still with white hand shades her anxious brow,
Though ’neath the world the sun is fallen now,
O dreary road, when will thy leagues be done?

THE MAIDENS

O tremblest thou, grey road, or do my feet
Tremble with joy, thy flinty face to meet? 
Because my love’s eyes soon mine eyes shall greet? 
No heart thou hast to keep us long alone.

THE YOUTHS

O wilt thou ne’er depart, thou heavy night? 
When will thy slaying bring on the morning bright,
That leads my weary feet to my delight?