The day returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twadid meet:
Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d,
Ne’er summer-sun was half saesweet.
Than a’the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o’er the sultry line;
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heav’n gave me more-it made thee mine!
While day and night can bring delight,
OrNature aughtof pleasure give;
While joys above my mindcan move,
For thee, and thee alone, I live.
When that grim foe of life below
Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss-it breaks my heart!