Both Crown and Robe Forsake Shall

Both crown and robe forsake shall I, I'll roam, by these unprest, a while;
'Midst foreign lands, far off from here, I'll dwell a wayworn guest, a while.

O minstrel fair, both harp and lute's sweet music hushed must now remain;
Woe's feast is spread, ah! there the flute: — my sighs by grief opprest, a while.

Sometimes I'll fall, sometimes I'll rise, sometimes I'll laugh, sometimes I'll weep,
Blood drinking now, woe tasting then, distracted sore I'll rest, a while.