Oh love's sweet enchantment is common,
It rules the world everywhere;
'Tis the rose in the bosom of woman,
The bouquet that man loves to wear;
'Tis the Spirit that lightens his labour,
Or whether on land or on sea;
'Tis the charm of the pipe and the tabor,
And as dear to the slave as the free!
Oh love is a bright little taper
We joy to feel burn in our heart;
It dispels all the gloom and the vapour,
And whispers will never depart;
'Tis the glory and pride of our nation,
Which honour and valour protect
'Tis the dearest and sweetest oblation,
The heart can desire or accept!
Oh love is the sunlight of reason,
The brightest--the warmest--the best;
'Tis a guest that ne'er comes out of season,
But always finds welcome, and rest;
'Tis the crown that encircles all nature,
The peasant--the squire--or the king;
'Tis the passion that rules ev'ry creature,
From fishes to birds on the wing!
Oh love is the wondrous magician
That changes dull lead into gold;
If it wounds it can play the physician,
And cure both the young and the old!
Then hail to the glorious passion
That makes what is earthly, sublime!
That cares not for custom or fashion,
But dwells like an angel with time!
