So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear,
Throughout the night, that endless seem'd,And for her mother's help to cry
By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down,Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.
By the present were shown,--That afar nought was fashion'd--not evenBy the stars that illumine you heaven.
I shall still have my feet.
Shall my secret be known.
When the many loiter still;All with ease may be controll'd
And the son added himself:--"My father, O give her! My heart hasChosen purely and truly: she'll make you an excellent daughter."
As if mine eyes remain'd still bound.
In small things praise his God.
And the third, his heart so trueBut, as with the lambs, the scoffer
OF all the beauteous waresExposed for sale at fairs,None will give more delightThan those that to your sightFrom distant lands we bring.Oh, hark to what we sing!These beauteous birds behold,They're brought here to be sold.