[00:00.00] 作曲 : Ole Alexander Myrholt, Tony Eugene Tunheim[00:23.22]A precious, mouldering pleasure 'tis[00:24.60]To meet an antique book,[00:26.13]In just the dress his century wore;[00:26.88]A privilege, I think,[00:31.68]His (venerable) hand to take,[00:32.31]And warming in our own,[00:32.76]A passage back, or two, to make[00:47.79]To times when he was young.[00:51.54]His quaint opinions to inspect,[00:52.29]His knowledge to unfold[00:52.77]On what concerns our mutual mind,[00:57.15]The literature of old;[00:57.75]What interested scholars most,[01:02.31]What competitions ran[01:03.03]When Plato was a certainty,[01:05.25]And Sophocles a man;[01:09.75]When Sappho was a living girl,[01:17.28]And Beatrice wore[01:18.39]The gown that Dante deified.[01:31.98]Facts, centuries before,[01:33.81]He traverses familiar,[01:34.38]As one should come to town[01:36.54]And tell you all your dreams were true:[01:40.08]He lived where dreams were born.[01:41.16]His presence is enchantment,[01:44.70]You beg him not to go;[01:48.03]Old volumes shake their vellum heads[03:07.80]And tantalize, just so.[03:08.28]And there's grief of hunger, and grief of cold[03:11.76]And there's a sort they call despair[03:14.97]There's banishment from primitive lust[03:16.38]In the slightest sight of fundamental air