How beats thy heart, when thou dost hear

The chime that warns thy guests to fly! 
How glow’st thou for those lips so dear,

That soon are mute, and nought deny! 
With her into the holy place

Thou hast’nest then, to perfect all;
The fire the warder’s hands embrace,

Grows, like a night-light, dim and small.

How heaves her bosom, and how burns

Her face at every fervent kiss! 
Her coldness now to trembling turns,

Thy daring now a duty is. 
Love helps thee to undress her fast,

But thou art twice as fast as he;
And then he shuts both eye at last,

With sly and roguish modesty.

1767.
-----
Mischievous joy.

As a butterfly renew’d,

When in life I breath’d my last,

  To the spots my flight I wing,

Scenes of heav’nly rapture past,

Over meadows, to the spring,
Round the hill, and through the wood.

Soon a tender pair I spy,

And I look down from my seat

  On the beauteous maiden’s head—­

When embodied there I meet

All I lost as soon as dead,
Happy as before am I.

Him she clasps with silent smile,

And his mouth the hour improves,

  Sent by kindly Deities;

First from breast to mouth it roves,

Then from mouth to hands it flies,
And I round him sport the while.

And she sees me hov’ring near;

Trembling at her lovers rapture,

  Up she springs—­I fly away,

“Dearest! let’s the insect capture

Come!  I long to make my prey
Yonder pretty little dear!”

1767-9.
-----
Apparent death.

Weep, maiden, weep here o’er the tomb of Love;

He died of nothing—­by mere chance was slain. 
But is he really dead?—­oh, that I cannot prove: 

A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again.

1767-9.
-----
November song.

To the great archer—­not to him

To meet whom flies the sun,
And who is wont his features dim

With clouds to overrun—­

But to the boy be vow’d these rhymes,

Who ’mongst the roses plays,
Who hear us, and at proper times

To pierce fair hearts essays.

Through him the gloomy winter night,

Of yore so cold and drear,
Brings many a loved friend to our sight,

And many a woman dear.

Henceforward shall his image fair

Stand in yon starry skies,
And, ever mild and gracious there,

Alternate set and rise.

1815.*
-----
To the chosen one.
[This sweet song is doubtless one of those addressed to
Frederica.]

Hand in hand! and lip to lip!

Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! 
Fare thee well! thy lover’s ship