His heavenly path with pride doth tread,And, to subdue the world's wide all,
Were made, we see well.
Her shop at once invade,To buy and haggle, all the town,
And now within itself is closed this breast,
Is heard the sigh, and grief revives anew;The friends are told, who, in their hour of pride,Deceived by fortune, vanish'd from my side.
Its brother is greeting,
Her glances light,My song they waken,
Now the mother happen'd to draw near;At the door long hearkens she, full long,
Attempts to pierce the air in vain,When, hidden in the azure sky,
I. The Smoke that from thine Altar blows.
Golden, truly blest,While thine image so beloved was glowing
E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze
Words as poets' arms were made,--
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