Classic Poem

O, IT was here that Love his gifts bestowed
On Youth's wild age!
Gladly once more I seek my youth's abode,
In pilgrimage:
Here my young mistress with her poet dared
Reckless to dwell;
She was sixteen, I twenty — and we shared
This attic cell.

Yes, 'twas a garret! be it known to all,
Here was Love's shrine;
There read, in charcoal traced along the wall,
The unfinished line.
Here was the board where kindred hearts would blend:
The Jew can tell
How oft I pawned my watch to feast a friend
In attic cell.

O, my Lisette's fair form could I recall
With fairy wand!
There she would blind the window with her shawl:
Bashful, yet fond.
What though from whom she got her dress I've since
Learned but too well?
Still in those days I envied not a prince,
In attic cell.

Here the glad tidings on our banquet burst,
'Mid the bright bowls:
Yes, it was here Marengo's triumph first
Kindled our souls!
Bronze cannon roared; France with redoubled might
Felt her heart swell;
Proudly we drank our Consul's health that night
In attic cell!

Dreams of my youthful days! I'd freely give,
Ere my life's close,
All the dull days I'm destined yet to live,
For one of those.
Where shall I now find raptures that were felt,
Joys that befell,
And hopes that dawned at twenty, when I dwelt
In attic cell?