Hob XXVIa, 42: O Tuneful Voice. [German translation]

O tuneful voice I still deplore

Thy accents, which I hear no more,

Still vibrate on my heart.

In Echo's cave I long to dwell

And still to hear that sad farewell

When we were forced to part.

Bright eyes! O that the task were mine

To guard the liquid fires that shine

And round your orbits play,

To watch them with a vestal's care,

To feed with smiles a light so fair

That it may ne'er decay.