Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.

In the age of gold, Free from winter’s cold, Youth and maiden bright, To the holy light, Naked in the sunny beams delight.

Once a youthful pair, Filled with softest care, Met in garden bright Where the holy light Had just removed the curtains of the night.

There, in rising day, On the grass they play; Parents were afar, Strangers came not near, And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

Tired with kisses sweet, They agree to meet When the silent sleep Waves o’er heaven’s deep, And the weary tired wanderers weep.

To her father white Came the maiden bright; But his loving look, Like the holy book, All her tender limbs with terror shook.

Ona, pale and weak, To thy father speak! O the trembling fear! O the dismal care That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!’