My Wish

Tranquil my love shall glide o'er the pastures Aonian,
Like to the crystal stream by verdant myrtles o'ershaded;
Tho' a dark cloud sometimes may spread o'er heaven its mantle,
Love, like the sun, shall chase its fugitive darkness; and calmly
Waiting the end, I'll look with cheerful eye on the future.
Sinking at last in peace in the lovely arms of the maiden,
Springs on my grave shall wake their ever-reviving beauties,
Sweet forget-me-not shall bloom where my body reposes.