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Thou smilest, friend, with fitting thoughts inspired;By a dread parting was thy fame acquired,Thy mournful destiny we sorrow'd o'er,For weal and woe thou left'st us evermore,And then again the passions' wavering forceDrew us along in labyrinthine course;And we, consumed by constant misery,At length must part--and parting is to die!How moving is it, when the minstrel sings,To 'scape the death that separation brings!Oh grant, some god, to one who suffers so,To tell, half-guilty, his sad tale of woe

May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora!