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Arise, O cup-bearer, & bringFresh wine for our enrapturing!O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,O love that erst so easy seemed,What toil is in thy travelling!’How in the lov’d one’s tent can IHave any rest or gaiety?Ever anon the horsemen cry,‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’Ever I hear the jingling bellOf waiting steed & harnessry.O seeker who wouldst surely bringTo happy end thy wandering,O learner who wouldst truly know,Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go!Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & flingTo those clear skies thy rapturing.
Arise, O cup-bearer, & bringFresh wine for our enrapturing!O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,O love that erst so easy seemed,What toil is in thy travelling!’How in the lov’d one’s tent can IHave any rest or gaiety?Ever anon the horsemen cry,‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’Ever I hear the jingling bellOf waiting steed & harnessry.O seeker who wouldst surely bringTo happy end thy wandering,O learner who wouldst truly know,Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go!Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & flingTo those clear skies thy rapturing.
Arise, O cup-bearer, & bringFresh wine for our enrapturing!O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,O love that erst so easy seemed,What toil is in thy travelling!’
Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring
Fresh wine for our enrapturing!
O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—
‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,
O love that erst so easy seemed,
What toil is in thy travelling!’
How in the lov’d one’s tent can IHave any rest or gaiety?Ever anon the horsemen cry,‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’Ever I hear the jingling bellOf waiting steed & harnessry.
How in the lov’d one’s tent can I
Have any rest or gaiety?
Ever anon the horsemen cry,
‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’
Ever I hear the jingling bell
Of waiting steed & harnessry.
O seeker who wouldst surely bringTo happy end thy wandering,O learner who wouldst truly know,Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go!Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & flingTo those clear skies thy rapturing.
O seeker who wouldst surely bring
To happy end thy wandering,
O learner who wouldst truly know,
Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go!
Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & fling
To those clear skies thy rapturing.