On verdant mountainside is growing
The god, who heaven to us brings;
The sun's own foster-child, and glowing
With all the fire its favor flings.

In Spring is he conceived with pleasure,
The bud unfolds in silent joy,
And mid the autumn's harvest treasure
Forth springs to life the golden boy.

Within his narrow cradle lying,
In vaulted rooms beneath the ground,
He dreams of feasts and banners flying
And airy castles all around.

Near to his dwelling none remaineth,
When chafeth he in restless strife,  
And every hoop and fetter straineth  
In all the pride of youthful life.

For viewless watchmen round are closing, 
Until his lordly dreams are o'er, 
With air-enveloped spears opposing 
The loiterer near the sacred door.  

So when unfold his sleeping pinions,
With sparkling eyes he greets the day,
Obeys in peace his priestly minions,  
And forth he cometh when they pray.  

From cradle's murky bosom faring,
He winketh through a crystal dress,  
The rose of close alliance bearing,  
Expressive in its ruddiness.  

And everywhere around are pressing  
His merry men in jubilee,  
Their love and gratitude confessing 
To him with jocund tongue and free.

He scatters o'er the fields and valleys 
His inner life in countless rays, 
And Love is sipping from his chalice, 
And pledged forever with him stays.

As spirit of the golden ages, 
The Poet always he beguiles, 
Who everywhere in reeling pages 
Doth celebrate his pleasant wiles.

He gave him, his allegiance sealing, 
To every pretty mouth a right,
And this the god through him revealing, 
That none the edict dare to slight.