Includes the glory,
Includes the bliss
Of days like this!

1813.
-----
Rinaldo.*

[This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick of Gotha, and set to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part of Rinaldo.—­See the Annalen.]

(* See Tasso’s Gerusalemme Liberata, Canto XVI.)

Chorus.

To the strand! quick, mount the bark!

If no favouring zephyrs blow,

Ply the oar and nimbly row,
And with zeal your prowess mark!

O’er the sea we thus career.

Rinaldo.

Oh, let me linger one short moment here! 
’Tis heaven’s decree, I may not hence away. 
The rugged cliffs, the wood-encircled bay,
Hold me a prisoner, and my flight delay.

Ye were so fair, but now that dream is o’er;
The charms of earth, the charms of heaven are nought. 
What keeps me in this spot so terror-fraught?

My only joy is fled for evermore.

Let me taste those days so sweet,

Heav’n-descended, once again! 
Heart, dear heart! ay, warmly beat!

  Spirit true, recall those days

  Freeborn breath thy gentle lays

Mingled are with joy and pain.

Round the beds, so richly gleaming,

Rises up a palace fair;
All with rosy fragrance teeming,

As in dream thou saw’st it ne’er.

And this spacious garden round,

Far extend the galleries;
Roses blossom near the ground,

High in air, too, bloom the trees.

Wat’ry flakes and jets are falling.

Sweet and silv’ry strains arise;
While the turtle-dove is calling,

And the nightingale replies.

Chorus.

Gently come! feel no alarm,

On a noble duty bent;
Vanish’d now is ev’ry charm

That by magic power was lent. 
Friendly words and greetings calm
On his wounds will pour soft balm.

Fill his mind with sweet content.

Rinaldo.

Hark! the turtle-dove is calling,

And the nightingale replies;
Wat’ry flakes and jets are falling,

Mingling with their melodies.

But all of them say: 

Her only we mean;
But all fly away,

As soon as she’s seen,—­
The beauteous young maiden,

With graces so rife,

Then lily and rose

In wreaths are entwining;

In dancing combining,
Each zephyr that blows

Its brother is greeting,

All flying and meeting,
With balsam full laden,

When waken’d to life.

Chorus.

No! no longer may we wait;
Rouse him from his vision straight! 
Show the adamantine shield!

Rinaldo.

Woe! what form is here reveal’d!

Chorus.

’Twill disclose the cheat to thee.