No thirst or hunger pangs my bosom rent--
I only longed to have her by my side.
I feast with her, whose virtue fame had told,
Nor need we friends our rapture to behold.
The long-tailed pheasants surest covert find,
Amid the forest on the plain.
Here from my virtuous bride, of noble mind,
And person tall, I wisdom gain.
I praise her while we feast, and to her say,
"The love I bear you ne'er will know decay.
"Poor we may be; spirits and viands fine
My humble means will not afford.
But what we have, we'll taste and not repine;
From us will come no grumbling word.
And though to you no virtue I can add,
Yet we will sing and dance, in spirit glad.
"I oft ascend that lofty ridge with toil,
And hew large branches from the oaks;
Then of their leafy glory them I spoil,
And fagots form with vigorous strokes.
Returning tired, your matchless grace I see,
And my whole soul dissolves in ecstasy.
"To the high hills I looked, and urged each steed;
The great road next was smooth and plain.
Up hill, o'er dale, I never slackened speed;
Like lute-string sounded every rein.
I knew, my journey ended, I should come
To you, sweet bride, the comfort of my home."
~Against Listening to Slanderers~
Like the blueflies buzzing round,
And on the fences lighting,
Are the sons of slander found,
Who never cease their biting.
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