Children of the future age,Reading this indignant page,Know that in a former timeLove, sweet love, was thought a crime. In the age of gold,Free from winter＇s cold,Youth and maiden bright,To the holy light,Naked in the sunny beams delight. Once a youthful pair,Filled with softest care,Met in garden brightWhere the holy lightHad just removed the curtains of the night. There, in rising day,On the grass they play;Parents were afar,Strangers came not near,And the maiden soon forgot her fear. Tired with kisses sweet,They agree to meetWhen the silent sleepWaves o＇er heaven＇s deep,And the weary tired wanderers weep. To her father whiteCame the maiden bright;But his loving look,Like the holy book,All her tender limbs with terror shook. Ona, pale and weak,To thy father speak!O the trembling fear!O the dismal careThat shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!＇