The golden robe
Beethoven, Ludwig van
He:
A golden robe my Love shall wear,
And rubies bind her yellow hair;
A golden robe those limbs enfold,
So far above the worth of gold.
No courtly dame in gaudy pride,
Shall e'er outshine my lovely bride;
Then say, my charming maiden say,
When shall we name the happy day?
She:
Can golden robes my fancy bind,
Or ruby chains enslave the mind?
Not all the wealth our mountains own,
Nor orient pearls, nor precious stone,
Can tempt me by their idle shine,
Or buy a heart that's form'd like mine!
My choice it is already made,
I shun the glare, and court the shade.
He:
Your scorn, proud girl, I well can bear,
There's many a maid my robes would wear,
And thank me too; so take your way,
But you'll repent another day.
She:
Go with your robes and gifts of gold
To those whose hearts are to be sold;
For me, I have no other pride
But Evan's love my choice to guide!