Youthful love, thou pearl so precious, To the wounded heart a balsam, To life's tossing ship an anchor, Oasis in sandy deserts; Never would I venture singing Any new song to thy honour. I'm one of the Epigoni; And great hosts of valiant people Lived before King Agamemnon. I know also wise King Solomon, And the petty German poets. Bashful only, and most grateful, I recall thy gentle magic. As a golden light it shineth Through the mists of youth, and clearly To our view unveils life's outlines; Shows us where to plant our footsteps, And gives courage to the wanderer. Lofty hopes and timid longing, Dauntless thoughts and stubborn courage, All these do we owe to Love; And the cheerful heart that helps us, Like a mountain-staff, to spring o'er Rocks which lie upon our pathway. Happy, therefore, is the heart which Love triumphantly has entered! But young Werner seemed unconscious Why he thus to-day was strolling Idly here along the river. Dreamily he walked close by it, Heedless of the waves which often Gave his boots a thorough wetting. From the river's depths gazed at him Then the Rhine, who just the battle Of two aged crabs was watching, And with noisy, ringing laughter, Nodded praises, when in rage they Crossed their horny claws together. Yes, the Rhine--he is a handsome Youthful man, and not alone a Geographical conception-- For young Werner he felt pity. Rustling rose he from the water, In his locks a wreath of rushes, And a reed-staff in his right hand. Werner, like all Sunday children, Saw much more than other mortals; So he quickly recognised him, And made him a low obeisance.