Our spirit wings its flight. But, lo, he now is routed, His boast is turned to gloom. In love for me hath won. Howe'er he rave and storm. My heart from care is free, No trouble troubles me.
Misfortune now is play, And night is bright as day.
I follow through it all. This text was converted to ascii format for Project Wittenberg by Cindy A. Beesley and is in the public domain. You may freely distribute, copy or print this text.