Music lost

Soar gladly through the air to the lofty grandeur,
Ye wishes, ye which now within our hearts well up;
But wait ye here; ye may so far not from us journey,
The worthy Duchess offers cause for your delay.

Serenest one,
Our deeply humble gratitude
Appears before thy presence;
Thy favor and thy character,
Thy grace, thy world-acknowledged fame
Make us from ev'ry bashfulness
And ev'ry worry free,
That we should our lips' melody
Restrain more than advance before thee.

The sun doth draw with soft insistence
The solar eclipse to itself.
Thus, lofty Princess, to thy glances,
Which make our whole well-being prosper,
Attend our ever faithful hearts.

The gratitude
Which day and night
Within our hearts hath pondered how
A token of its debt to show thee,
Is by this day made glad,
Since thee, thou jewel of our time,
The light of earth now hath regarded;
And since thy precious Leopold
And all, who thee are true and dear,
Are by this festival enlivened,
So we as well cannot
Our humble duty's task
Before thine ears now leave unspoken.

Receive our welcome, finest day!
Who tongue and breath still yet possess
Join in now this our harmony:
Charlotte, bloom!

In truth this is not yet enough,
The humble faith and loyal servitude
Which we for thee within our bosoms nurture
Sufficiently to lay before thee.
For that our hearts to thee sweet wishes cast,
Our mouths thee nought but health extend,
This is, Serenest, of our debt
But faint suggestion,
For if we gave our very selves to thee,
We would our debt not yet in full have met;
Yet will in thee our feeble stammer
Most graciously find favor.

E'en with our muted, feeble voices
Is, Princess, this great feast revered.
For sound nought but our soul alone,
It cometh as a very shout
Which doth in heav'n itself resound.

But ere we yet
Hence from thy throne have parted,
Our spirit must,
Which, lofty Princess, thine
Forever shall be called,
Its wish in words like these now offer.

Flourish, blosom, live thou long yet,
Lofty Princess, be thou blest!
Although, who so, as thou,
Doth heaven love,
Hath nought but health and peace,
So long as this doth heaven's care receive.
What thy heart could ever long for,
Must to thee good fortune offer!
But it would thine own noble blessings
As measure of its kindness reckon,
Or else it is for this too poor.
May this light which thou dost see
Nought e'er know of any setting!
Our faithful sighing will be granted
As long thereto
The half of thine own heart,
The gentle Leopold's delight,
The hope and wish of ev'ry loyal liege
And this thy servant's welfare tendeth.
Flourish, blosom, live thou long yet,
Lofty Princess, be thou blest!