Jan van Broekhuizen

Translated by Sir John Bowring

BEYOND the Rhine, in solitude and snows,

Through every starless night and cheerless day,

I muse, and waste myself in thought away,

And breathe my sighs to where the Amstel flows.

My spring of life is hastening to its close,

The sun of youth emits its latest ray,

While grief asserts its most ungentle sway;

And toils I bear, but toils without repose.

But, oh, my past enjoyment, life, and light!

How soon should sorrow take its hurried flight,

And every thought that pains my breast depart,

If thou wert present when my spirits pine!

For thou wouldst bring, with those sweet eyes of thine,

A summer in the land,—a heaven within my heart.