Go, idle boy! I quit thy pow'r;
Thy couch of many a thorn and flow'r;
I wish thee well, for pleasures past,
And bless the hour I'm free at last.
Yet still, methinks, the alter'd day
Scatters around a mournful ray;
And chilling ev'ry zephyr blows,
And ev'ry stream untuneful flows.
Haste, haste thee back then, idle boy,
And with thine anguish bring thy joy:
O rend my heart with ev'ry pain,
But let me, let me - love again.