Home  »  library  »  poem  »  Amaryllis

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.


By Carl Michael Bellman (1740–1795)

UP, Amarylis! Darling, awaken!

Through the still bracken

Soft airs swell;

Iris, all dightly,

Vestured so brightly,

Coloreth lightly

Wood and dell.

Amaryllis, thy sweet name pronouncing,

Thee in Neptune’s cool embrace announcing.

Slumber’s god the while his sway renouncing,

O’er your eyes sighs, and speech yields his spell.

Now comes the fishing! The net we fasten;

This minute hasten!

Follow me!

Don your skirt and jacket

And veil, or you’ll lack it;

Pike and trout wait a racket;

Sails flap free.

Waken, Amaryllis, darling, waken!

Let me not by thy smile be forsaken:

Then by dolphins and fair sirens overtaken,

In our gay boat we’ll sport in company.

Come now, your rods, lines, and nets with you taking!

The day is breaking;

Hasten thee nigh!

Sweet little treasure,

Think ill in no measure;

For thee ’twere no pleasure

Me to deny.

Let us to the little shallows wander,

Or beside the inlet over yonder,

Where the pledge-knot made our fond love fonder,

O’er which Thyrsis erst was moved to sigh.

Step in the boat, then—both of us singing,

Love his wand swinging

Over our fate.

Æol is moving,

But though wild proving,

In your arms loving

Comfort doth wait.

Blest, on angry waves of ocean riding,

By thee clasped, vain ’twere this dear thought hiding:

Death shall find me in thy pathway biding.

Sirens, sing ye, and my voice imitate!