Christel.

My senses ofttimes are oppress'd,     Oft stagnant is my blood;     But when by Christel's sight I'm blest,     I feel my strength renew'd.     I see her here, I see her there,     And really cannot tell     The manner how, the when, the where,     The why I love her well.     If with the merest glance I view     Her black and roguish eyes,     And gaze on her black eyebrows too,     My spirit upward flies.     Has any one a mouth so sweet,     Such love-round cheeks as she?     Ah, when the eye her beauties meet,     It ne'er content can be.     And when in airy German dance     I clasp her form divine,     So quick we whirl, so quick advance,     What rapture then like mine!     And when she's giddy, and feels warm,     I cradle her, poor thing,     Upon my breast, and in mine arm,     I'm then a very king!     And when she looks with love on me,     Forgetting all but this,     When press'd against my bosom, she     Exchanges kiss for kiss,     All through my marrow runs a thrill,     Runs e'en my foot along!     I feel so well, I feel so ill,     I feel so weak, so strong!     Would that such moments ne'er would end!     The day ne'er long I find;     Could I the night too with her spend,     E'en that I should not mind.     If she were in mine arms but held,     To quench love's thirst I'd try;     And could my torments not be quell'd,     Upon her breast would die.