Oh, happy is the exile then,
As wandering Swiss, who hears again
Some note of home, that doth restore
Boyhood and Alpine heights once more !
'Twas evening ! Twilight wrapped in gold
Lay dreaming on her western bed,
And, mute as Egypt's priests of old,
The stars their solemn marches led.
And earth below that sky so flair
Stood like a bride, in whoso dark hair
Rich gems are flashing, blush and smile
Playing beneath her veil the while.
Tired with the pleasures of the day,
In smiling sleep the Naiad lay,
And tranquil Evening sat at rest,
A red rose shining on her breast.
The little Cupids, that had lain
Bound by the sunshine, free again,
Now gaily on the moonbeams ride,