%^^ %- \ /^ 01/ ^ UBfiARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Rimsm \^,^ 'IvONDON: GLKIN* WIGO- St^ / TO JV. T. /^LD friend^ it was my earliest thought That your name should be written here ; For sooth^ iy Friendship count /or aught, I hold no living man so dear. Tet o'er my pages now I look. And am, for very shame, deterred : Of Love, unending tells the book^ But of this Friendship, not a word. MANY of these pieces have appeared in magazines to whose editors, with the rarest exceptions, I am under no obligation. The fatl that some of the others were published in earlier volumes will be detefied by very few. I could not explain their reappearance without seeming to obtrude my pretensions as a writer. It is enough to say that some are here because, to my thinking, I have been able to im- prove them; and others — because I have not. All is Vanity, as the Preacher saith. K. R. CONTENTS PART I PAGE Chambers Twain i Remember Love 2 On Reading * The Roots of the Mountains ' 3 Requiescat 4. 1879 5 1889 5 The Protest of Spring 6 For an Urn 7 Unworthy 8 With Flowers 9 A Gift 10 Art's Extremes 11 In June 12 Edelweiss 13 Anniversary 14 Two Piflures by Florence Smill. Autumn Leaves 15 The Poem 15 An Unfinished Portrait 16 Shaughbridge, Devon 17 Axtown 18 In a Bachelor's Garden 19 The Stream of Life 20 vii PAGE Fragment in the British Museum 21 Idyll of the British Museum 22 Willy 23 Question 25 Day and Night 26 For an Ideal 27 Ever and a Day 28 Friends 29 A Birthday 30 Twice Dead 31 A Science of History 32 Let Rest 33 Of the Grantchester ' Grind,' and of Flowers 34 My Love, where art thou ? 35 Song, by C. R 36 Marguerite 37 Of me 38 Anniversary 39 A Broken Ring 40 A Poor Author to his Books 41 After Orchardson 42 A Nice Question .* . . 42 A Challenge 43 Should Newspaper Articles be Signed ? 43 Old Boys' Match : Amersham Hall School 44 A Dream 46 Grays Inn 47 Life, Life 48 Westward Ho ! 49 The Undersong 50 Envoy 51 viii PART II TRANSLATIONS PAGE Elegy, Th. Gautier 55 From Goethe All o'er the high mountain 56 From Klaus Groth i. Farewell, farewell, now Summer's sped 57 ii. The sky is over-clouded 58 iii. The sea is full of water 59 iv. Mother's sleeping, fast abed ! 60 From Heine i. Gracious Lady, wilt allow 61 ii. Frienil, conciliate the Devil 62 iii. I held her eyes, and kissed her 63 iv. It makes a man happy, no doubt 64 V. These fine ladies, understanding 65 vi. Frankly, this young man I honour 66 vii. Say, where now is yon fair maiden 67 viii. I must endure : tho' my sad htart should break . . 68 ix. Yes, thou art wretched, and I must enihire ... 69 X. Thou art like unto a flower 70 xi. The sea in the golden sunshine 71 xii. All, Love ! the sea-gulls hover 72 xiii. A young man loves a maiden 73 xiv. Away I to the shore of the Ganges ! 74 XV. Laid on thy snow-white shoulder 75 xvi. Did the wee flowers know what sadness .... 76 xvii. I iiide from mankind only 77 xviii. With brown sail spread my vessel flies 78 xix. Ah, you knew both cook and kitchen 79 XX. On the shore there stands a maiden 80 ix // PAGE xxi. All, what lies the kisses cover ! 8i xxii. All in the merry month of May 8i xxiii. Heart, my heart, yield not to sadness 83 xxiv. Hopes blossom in the spring-time 84 XXV. Thou lovest me not, thou lovest me not .... 85 xxvi. And art thou indeed so unloving ? 86 xxvii. My songs are poisoned, dearest 87 xxviii. Ah, my old friend, you are smitten ! 88 xxix. All sadly through the wild ravine 89 XXX. First the spirit failed me, never 90 xxxi. Friendship, Love, the Sage's Stone 90 xxxii. The cross-roads mark his resting 91 xxxiii. Does not my pale face tell thee 92 xxxiv. 'Tis a matter at once for sorrow 93 XXXV. Without, it is snowing and blowing 94. xxxvi. I pass at morn the cottage 95 xxxvii. Ah ! once, in praise of her sweet eyes 96 xxxviii. My heart is troubled, and I think 97 xxxix. Erewhile I had a dear-loved Fatherland . . . . 98 xl. Where shall one all travel-weary 99 PART I. ^^ CHAMBERS TWAIN Hermann Neumann nr^HE heart hath chambers twain, Wherein Dwell Joy and Pain. Joy in his chamber stirs, While Pain Sleeps on in hers. Oh, Joy, refrain, refrain 1 Speak low ; You may awaken Pain. REMEMBER LOVE REMEMBER, love, how Burns would bring His verses to the ingle-side. And bid his dear-loved Jeanie sing, And by that test abide. Then what her ear determined true Her lips gave ringing to the night ; And Burns was glad, and surely knew That he had sung aright. Dear love, for me play such a part ; If I sing truly, thou canst tell : I bring my verses to thy heart — If any enter, it is well. ON READING *THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS ' A GREAT hand opens portals wide. My soul, my soul, We twain ma}' pass, still side by side. These golden gates that lift a scroll High o'er us weary — Here Abide ! REQUIESCAT BROWNING is dead. Great Spirit, He shall rest ! Ye little poets raking in his dust ! Oh heart that drank his music, to exchange This uproar of small voices for his song ! i879 DEAREST sister, Sorrow dwells In the home, as sound in shells That whisper evermore Along a silent shore. Evermore and mournfully, The gathered sadness of the sea. 1889 A VOICE unheard these many years ; A face long summers shut from sight ; That face I saw, that voice to-night Gave quiet in a world of fears. Sister, ten years may serve for tears : In twice ten years I shall not miss His very look ; the ring of his Great voice abideth in mine cars. y THE PROTEST OF SPRING o= NE is dead ! Green month of bursting flower and leaf, One is dead ! For joy of life thy tears are shed ; Naught naught to thee are these of grief ; April ! fling wide thy disbelief That one is dead. FOR AN URN s. 'HE chose to die. Grave here, beneath our helpless flowers, She chose to die. Alas ! the sun forsook her sky Whatwhile he gladdened other bowers : She tasted life — a few sad hours ; Then chose to die. UNWORTHY AM I not worthy of thee ? Oh, my child, Come close, come close, and nurse upon thy breast My aching brow ! Let thy sweet hands be pressed Cool, cool, on these hot eyelids, till the wild Ungoverned tumult of my brain is stilled ! Close, close, till that sound dies within mine ears, And I may cease from questioning with tears Why God has made me love thee, Oh, my child ! 8 WITH FLOWERS I KNOW not how in any wise, Dearest, my aching love to show ; If flowers have voices, these will speak, These flowers I gave you Long ago. And they will whisper ' Day and Night He sheddeth tears of joy to know He has not lost, not lost, not lost The love you gave him Long ago.' A GIFT TAKE back the song you sang, Love; Take back the gift you brought ; Take back the word you gave, Love ; Let me only keep the thought That you knew not what 3'ou said, Love, And deemed a song was naught, And brought a gift to me. Love, And knew not what you brought. 10 ART'S EXTREMES PROUDLY the father, Lowly the wife, Bends o'er a child sleeping Dearer than life. Pride speaks in the father. Love is mute in the wife, ' Did ever a painter Paint like Life ? ' Heavy the footfall. Laboured the breath. One quittcth the chamber Held by Death. His gaze is estranged, All strangely he saith ' Was there ever a sculptor Wrought like Death ? ' II IN JUNE AH, Love, I lack thy kisses In the warm sweet breath of June I am lonely amid lovers ; Love, come soon. A blue sea stretches waveless 'Neath a blue blue sky this June : I am panting for thy love, Love ; Love, come soon. 12 EDELWEISS ABOVE the line Of thawless snows, On yonder height, One flower grows. And in my bosom, Winter-bound, Lives one such flower Which thou hast found. '3 ANNIVERSARY A YEAR ago the friends who pressed To deck thy bridal could not know What twin souls waited, each confessed, A year ago. Twin souls, but half estranged yet ; Like single gazers (seemed it so ?) In some fair city newly met A year ago. How we this fuller joy should prove, How each to other closer grow. Surpassed our knowledge, dearest love, A year ago. 14 TWO PICTURES BY FLORENCE SMALL AUTUMN LEAVES o H, Autumn leaves ! Bind in thy tresses, maiden fair, These Autumn leaves. See Hope fulfilled in ranged sheaves ; See in dead Nature Love's despair ; For brooding joy, for russet care, These Autumn leaves. THE POEM HER brow upon thy pages bent. Thy volume, Poet, in her hands ; She knows not, she so innocent, How like a pictured maid she stands. Sing, Singer, to thy heart's content! Paint, Painter ! shall he rival thee ? Twin arts have equal graces lent : So art thou, Maiden, fair — and free. 15 AN UNFINISHED PORTRAIT HOW shines the gold amid the brown Of heavy tresses tumbling down In Art's despite ! How Nature blends her red and white ! Ah, happy painter ! It is thine That * sweet disorder ' to confine ; If thou shouldst order it aright, Ah, what delight ! i6 SHAUGHBRIDGE, DEVON THIS grey old bridge shall be my seat Up here I catch the silver tones Of maidens who on nimble feet Pass and repass the stepping-stones. On nimble feet, with merry din, The blithesome party lightly trips : They'd scream if one should tumble in ; They laugh if any maiden slips. 17 AXTOWN MISS Meg stood pawing at the door As she would question—' Wherefore tarry ? Brave old Dartmoor I'll put you o'er, Young master, like old Harry ! ' Then up I took my little crook, Kre Time was any older, And Hell-to-split we frolicked it O'er fern and furze and boulder. r8 L^ IN A BACHELOR'S GARDEN BUT now she stooped — best friends must part ; Then plucked — half jesting was she not ? (And blushed — it lay so near my heart !) Yon flower that pleads ' Forget-me-not.' Ah, ageing heart, old memories throng I Again, mcscems, her kiss strikes hot ; Her voice, long mute, bursts into song Who planted that Forget-me-not. 19 THE STREAM OF LIFE SAYS Mrs. Grundy—' I adjust These stepping-stones your feet to guide A fool you must be, man, to trust Your handsome legs for length of stride ! ' Says Mrs. Grundy : ' Be discreet ; You shall escape all taint of sin. A careless man ? You'll wet your feet. A clumsy man ? Tou'W tumble in ! ' 20 FRAGMENT IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM DEAD sage, dead priest, unheard ye call Up from the valleys where ye sleep : Love's clarion soundeth over all ; His fires glow from steep to steep. ■ Professor, I have little store Of learning you may fitly seek, I covet no Department's lore, Egyptian, Syriac, or Greek ; Bat oft I tread these halls alone, To mark where, treasured with the rest, There lies a stone, no common stone, ' A fragment' — of a woman's breast. Profess, Professor, all you know ! I ask, among these spoils you heap, Has Time a greater thing to show? Have we a holier thing to keep ? / / 21 IDYLL OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM OHE moved, admiring students said, ^ Amid the marbles like their Queen ; He bore, a little high, his head — Aware of God-like mien. 'Tis afternoon, the long slant rays Make hot the dim Egyptian room ; Our queen her little luncheon lays On a low sculptured tomb. And now the lad, his dark curls float As if from hers their gold to win. Draws from an ancient velvet coat, A paint-smeared sandwich tin. Love spreads the feast ; their lips have met ! So grace is said, and lingered o'er ! Gray Gods, ye smiled ! Nor look ye yet All grimly serious as before. 22 WILLY I'^HEY were talking of love, oh so wisely I How we slaved for that charity tea ! Of love in its ' higher relations,' And 'Platonic' affection, dear me! But poor little I was too flighty, Contrived on too heedless a plan, Too vain (so they said) and too trifling. To know aught of the ideal man. They talked, and oh ! I grew sleepy ; And the sun streamed in on the pane ; And I hardly seemed wanted, and somehow I found myself down in the lane ; And then, oh then, I met Willy ! He popped from the hedge with his gun ; * So delightful,' he said, ' to meet you here. Of all people under the sun.' Yes, would you believe it, 'twas Willy, And his two little dogs ' Smalls ' and * Mods ' I faltered ' Aunt Susie will miss me,' But Willy just said, * What's the odds ! ' 23 And he said — but, oh that I can't tell you ! But he kissed me before he began ; He's over six feet, and he's lovelyy If he isn't an * ideal man.' My eyes were tight shut and he kissed me, And * Mods ' gave a warning bow-bow ; And I screamed, and thought, ' Jf^as my hair tidy Whilst Willy recorded his vow?' Then I slipped to my corner demurely, And patted, and smoothed down my hair. And wondered if anyone noticed. And made up my mind not to care ; For I still shut my eyes, and saw Willy, W^hilst they slaved for that charity tea, And talked of love's ' higher relations,' And ' Platonic ' aflection, dear me ! 24 QUESTION TO one who long a worldly gain In worldly paths has sought, May aught of better worth remain, Save, peradventure, caught On cobwebs in the brain Some fragment of untainted thought ? 25 DAY ^ND NIGHT I HELD her hand To-day, And whispered a word, And she heard: — And I did not work. And she did not play To-day. I touched her lips To-night, And none knew, but we two, The delight : — And I shall not sleep, And she will not sleep To-nip-ht. 26 FOR AN IDEAL I LOOKED out over the ocean, And saw a maiden stand Where billow and cloud commingled In a vanishing golden land. I passed out over the ocean, And held the Sun-Maiden's hand, And lost for ever the treasure Of Love in my Fatherland. 27 EVER AND A DAY HE murmured ' Love, for ever ! ' And she whispered, * and a day ? * And I whose pain ends never Saw her stand in her bride's array. And knew that her love was for ever, And his false love for a day. 28 /■ FRIENDS HANDS clasped a moment on the strand ; The one must stay, the other go ; There is not any sign to show That friends have parted, hand from hand. And years roll on ; the two friends stand ; — The welcome spoken, speech is slow ; Still is there not a sign to show Friend dead to friend, as hand strikes hand. 29 A BIRTHDAY DEAR sister, with an idle line, There comes no dainty thing To grace thy dress, to deck thy hair ; These may some other bring. Love, of an essence volatile, Will oft elude the string That bindeth sure the decent gift Of formal offering. So in no cumbering parcel tied. But swift, on his own wing, Love, faring forth to gain thy side. Has only love to bring. 30 ritN TWICE DEAD THE spirit ever hath desire To pierce, thro' forms of Friendship, higher, And somewhere gain its promised part Of true communion, heart with heart. Ah, friend of Youth I thy fresh-cut grave Is warmer than the hand you gave ; Else were not (strangers many years) Lost friend, lost friend! These tears, these tears. 31 A SCIENCE OF HISTORY THINK you it would be good indeed (Surveying yonder, scrawled in slime, The rapid finger-trace of Time) To catch Life's secret, and to read The import of the coming years ? Or would the load be heavier yet ? A paler Grief, unheeded, wet The rock of Destiny with tears ? 32 LET REST WHAT art was lavished on the bower ! What nameless beauty hers for dower 1 What perfect moments made the hour ! * * * They steal like death from room to room ; They stifle sobs that break the gloom ; They keep the silence of the tomb. * * * Bring up old friends to view the bed ; Bring up, with slow mock-solemn tread, The hired transport of the dead. * * * Let rest the gold that holds her hair ; Let rest the ring none else might wear ; Let rest the strong man weeping there. 33 OF THE GRANTCHESTER 'GRIND,' AND OF FLOWERS IADY, my thanks : this night my dream -^ Is of a pathway stretching fair Through meadows bordering a stream, And flowers, thy gift, spring everywhere. By Grantchester, by Trumpington, Our quiet Cam-side pacing slow, At eve I pass, still musing on The unseen years, as years ago. My flower-dream, annulling time. Gives back the garnered hours to me ; Gives back a perished trick of rhyme That hardly shapes these words to thee ; Gives crowding thoughts of earlier days : — Lost friend, whose love I ask in vain, I walk the old oft-trodden ways Thy hand within mine arm again ! Ah, the old days ! The sun sank there : Ah, the old days ! Thus sped the hours : But dream-born seems the perfumed air. And of the dream my path of flowers. 34 MY LOVE, WHERE ART THOU? MY Love, where art thou ? Crowding waves Press ever on the strait confine Of the still, spirit-haunted shore Where my soul waiteth thine. My Love, where art thou ? Once, ah once, Thy vision in the clamorous mart Had drawn me sure!}' from the throng To a chamber set apart Where, weaving from its finest strand. My spirit fashioned for thy shrine A veil to shroud thee from a gaze Raised unabashed to thine. But now, where art thou? Say not, lost! That sanctuary of thought is bare : The shrine where stood thy picture shows The wan face of Despair. « « « « « Not ' lost ' ; — the low sweet voice that bad Me wait the lapse of dragging years : Not * lost ' ; — that vision in the throng Now dimly seen through tears. 35 SONG IF I were in the v^alley-land, And you far up the mountain blue, Would you just turn and wave your hand, And bid me strive to follow you ? If I were in the tossing sea, And 3'ou upon the quiet shore, Would you send out your help to me, And bid me to my life once more ? If I were cast from heaven's gate, And you within so glad and fair, I know you would come forth and wait Beside me, love, in my despair. 36 MARGUERITE LOVETH he, or loveth not, All these idle years ? An he love me. Laughter ; An he love not, Tears. Loveth he, or loveth not ? Flower, canst thou tell ? Thou shalt deck my bosom An he love me well. Loveth he, or loveth not ? Oh, but life were sweet ! Say ! ah say — he loves thee. Gentle Marguerite ! 37 OF ME T, HINK, Love, of me. Far from thy side to-night, Think, Love, of me. So shall I, absent, see Pictured upon the night Thy dear face set in light. Think, Love, of me. 38 ANNIVERSARY X HESE five years. Ah ! they have shown us one thing plain, These five years. Joy has a deeper spring than tears; Love knows a harbour shut to pain. Dearest, they are not spent in vain, These five years. 39 A BROKEN RING LO, thy poor ring is broken ! These kisses bind for aye. Let but this word be spoken, Now thy poor ring is broken, ' True Love outlasts his token. Yet cannot choose but stay.' Lo, thy poor ring is broken ! These kisses bind for aye. 40 A POOR AUTHOR TO HIS BOOKS DEAR comrades ! though ye figure not in Lowndes, (Thy costlier brethren long have left their home) How are ye ravished from me, tome by tome, For fewer shillings than ye cost me pounds ! Shades of unthrift}' authors ! Hark, it sounds ! My portal tells, a tedious metronome. Of sullen duns who onewhile forced to roam Kit Marlowe, Savage, Johnson, Goldsmith : Zounds ! Dim days of quiet pleasure that are fled ! Once, snugly harboured, dallying by turns With new and old, in such pure peace I read As one who, want unknowing, idly learns. Now in yon gaping casement widely spread Stand Shakespeare only, Landor, Lamb and Burns. 41 AFTER ORCHARDSON IN old days when Love ruled the roast The sorriest remnants tasted rare : Now Love sits watching like a ghost A very banquet served ' with Care.' A NICE QUESTION ^r^HE inmost tenant of my heart, -^ Dearest, thou knowest well thou art ! But Love alone can solve a doubt If I love thee, love, out and out. 42 A CHALLENGE OR well or ill my song may fare ; Love, let thy heart approve it first If thy pulse quickens I may dare Each bloodless critic to his worst. SHOULD NEWSPAPER ARTICLES BE SIGNED? A CRITIC whose name don't appear Said, 'This warfare of words is severe ; But the plan is to stand With your head in the sand, And such hits as you get don't appear ! ' 43 OLD BOYS' MATCH: AMERSHAM HALL SCHOOL I LONG have nursed, an old boy I, A gouty leg upon the pillow ; Yet was I, in the days gone by, No mean performer with the willow. And so was asked (no doubt my years Secured for me the invitation), To travel down to X, good sirs, And play the rising generation. I came, I saw, I fielded * point,' Till Buggins minimus ^ by Jingo, Knocked my forefinger out of joint, And chirruped, ' Hold it. Old Flamingo !' It made me hop! A substitute I signalled with the wounded digit. And that young Buggins, little brute, Ran on like a demented midgit. * Retired hurt,' I sat and told Of ancient days when there was cricket, And Birrell slogged, and Spokey bowled. And Winterbotham kept the wicket. 44 Ripe legends — much improved upon ! — I babbled of the great * Matrics,' And how I caught, at long ' long on,' A ball Jim Parry hit for six. I did indeed ; ' Lost ball ! ' was cried ; The hero o'er his bat was bending ; When overhead, supremely * skied,' I saw that awful ball descending. And rarif like any acrobat. Three hundred yards if ever man did, And cleared the fence, and had him pat Two inches from the ground, left-handed ! I paused, and heard, it touched my pride (It was unfeeling and improper), A fat boy, nicknamed ' F'uU-inside,' Gasp out — 'Jemima, wot a wopper!' 45 A DREAM 'VTIGHT brought a dream of love, -^ ^ A fond sweet dream of thee ; Thy heart beat warm upon my heart, Thy dear arms circled me. Alas ! but dawn now shows A cheerless couch to me. 'Twas sleep beguiled an empty heart ; My vacant arms sought thee. 46 GRAYS INN NOW Night, with gentle breath, has wrought Some rest within my brain : The spirit that so vainly sought. Now, outward gazing, seems to gain The end of all this tangled skein Of cabined, cribbed, unresting thought. 47 LIFE, LIFE LIFE, life, if murmuring there be Of low estate, or scanty pelf, The plaint upgoeth not from me. Thy toys lie broken on the shelf — Love swept them with an idle breath Life, life ! Love overmastereth thee ! Grant gentle passage unto death. 48 WESTWARD HO! IN the low pathway of the sun, Far-shadowed on the golden fern, And robed in purple twilight, one Stood and there waited his return, And shone upon him unforeseen As he with heavy step drew near : Ah ! then was greeting sweet between Us two old lovers — Sister dear. 49 11 THE UNDERSONG TO-DAY shall be no song, love. Here quiet now with thee ; No song holds all my love, love, So singing shall not be. Let my hands frame thy face, love ; Take this kiss for thy brow ; And these for thy tired lids, love ; Ah ! tears, not singing, now. Lay thy cheek to my cheek, love ; Rest thy dear hand in mine ; Let thy heart search my heart, love, If it indeed be thine. And let there be no song, love. Save only this that tells How deep, beneath all singing, Song in the heart upwells. 50 ENVOY DEAREST, I have put my life In this tiny book of song ; If it speak with halting voice, Yet may broken words prolong The memory of one golden hour When we were given each to each. And in silence, wanting words, Perfect love found perfe6l speech. 51 PART II. TRANSLATIONS FROM TH. GAUTIER, GOETHE, KLAUS GROTH, HEINE. ELEGY Th. Gautier ''1^0 mark where lies thy treasured dust X No pile is set, Poor Clemence, in thy morn by Death Untimely met. Thou slecpest at the hillock's foot In lowliest state, And one pale willow o'er thy grave Bends desolate. Thy name, by rain and snows outworn, No more is read On yon black-wooded cross which guards Thy cheerless bed. But Love, who aye remembereth, comes Where no foot nears. And bringeth flowers, and keepeth troth, And shcddcth tears. 55 FROM GOETHE ALL o'er the high mountain Is rest. Scarce bringeth the wind From his crest A breath unto you. In the woodland no bird singeth late- Ah, soon, only wait, You shall rest too. 56 FROM KLAUS GROTH FAREWELL, farewell, now Summer's sped, Till wakes the coming year ! Farewell, farewell, the leaves are dead : Farewell, my heart is sere. I sang all through the happy time Of Summer; now 'tis done, My flight is for another clime. Still southward, towards the sun. 57 II THE sky is over-clouded, Grey billows lash the shore : Oh world so vast and lonesome ! Oh heart all bruised and sore ! Does the sun shine brightly yonder ? Do bright smiles deck the land ? I see but grey and cheerless, The mist roll up the strand. ^8 Ill I^HE sea is full of water ; The heart is full of blood ; Whenas the moon appeareth Upmounts and falls the flood ; So, love, when thou art near me, Upwelleth my heart's blood. As mounts and falls the ocean, As flows and ebbs the flood. 59 IV MOTHER'S sleeping, fast abed ! Let go now ; hark, the watchman's tread ! Hark his bell, how sweet a tone ! Now leave me, do'ee now, alone. Yonder stands the kirk so tall ; Dead men sleep within the wall. In th}- sleep still think of me ; I dream the livelong night of thee. Mother's waking, who can tell ? That's enough now ! fare thee well! I'll bide, if she be sleeping sound. To-morrow, till the watch is round. 60 FROM HEINE ' Oh, mein gn'adiges Fraulein, erlaubt ' GRACIOUS Lady, wilt allow Apollo's lovesick son to rest Thus in sleep his poet-brow On thy swan-white breast? *' Sir, this to me ! How dare you say Such things — in public any way ! " 6i II * Mensch, verspotte nicht den Teufel ' FRIEND, conciliate the Devil; Brief, ah, brief, the course we run, And the Everlasting Blazes Is no fable pulpit-spun. Friend, pay up the debt thou owest. 'Tis a weary course we run. And you'll often have to borrow. As before you've often done. 62 Ill ' Ich halte ihr die Augen zu ' I HELD her eyes and kissed her, And kissed her mouth the while ; Now must she try unceasingly The reason to beguile. From closing night to morning light. With ever some new wile : — ' What need to hold my eyes, love, To kiss my mouth that while ? ' I answer not, no skill I've got These things to reconcile : — I held her eyes and kissed her. And kissed her mouth the while. 63 IV ' Das macht den Menschen gliicklich ' IT makes a man happy, no doubt, But it maketh him weary, i'fegs, To have three lovely women about him, And only a couple of legs. With one I must walk of a morning ; At eve with another I rove ; And a third comes at noontide, and drags me Right out of my quarters, by Jove ! Farewell, irresistible sirens ! I have but two legs of my own ; Henceforth in some rural seclusion I'll worship Dame Nature — alone. 64 ' Diese Damen, sle verstehen ' '"l^'HESE fine ladies, understanding -■• Honour must to poets be, Bad me to a lordly luncheon — My great Genius and me. There was soup, ah ! it was stunning ; There was wine no lip would spurn ; There was poultry, simply godlike. There was hare cooked to a turn. They talked I remember of poets. And when I could eat no more, I rose, and acknowledged the honour, And bowed till 1 reached the door. 65 K VI ' Diesen liebenswurd'gen Jungling' 17RANKLY, this young man I honour, He exhibits graces rare. Often he has stood me oysters, Also Rhine-wine and liqueurs. And his clothes exaflly fit him, And his tie proclaims the swell ; And he turns up every morning. And he hopes I'm pretty well. Talks about my reputation, And my wit, and grace of style ; And he'd do, if I would let him, Oh, a thousand things the while ! And at nights, in rooms surrounded By the fairest of the fair, He declaims my * Heavenly' poems With a soft abstrafted air. Truly, IS not this refreshing ? Such young men as him I praise Are not common ; they are growing Rare and rarer now-a-days. bb VII ' Sag, wo ist dein schones Litbclicn ' SAY, where now is yon fair maiden Whom you once so sweetly sang. When the magic fires of passion Hotly in thy bosom sprang ? In my bosom, chill and burdened. Friend, those fires no longer burn. In this narrow book the ashes Of my passion have an urn. 6; VIII ' Ich groUe nicht ' T MUST endure: tho' my sad heart should break, -*- Oh, love for ever lost ! I must endure. And thou mayest shine in diamonds bedight — The}' shed no lustre o'er thy bosom's night. I've known it long. In dreams that troubled rest I saw night chambered in thy loveless breast ; Saw serpents feeding in its inmost part, And saw, lost Love, how thou wert sick at heart. 68 IX ' Ja, du bist elend ' YES, thou art wretched, and I must endure ; — Love, we shall both be wretched until death ! When these sick hearts shall break there is one cure ; Love, we shall both be wretched until death. I see thy lips that wreathed are with scorn, I see thy bright eyes flashing haughtily. And thy proud bosom statelily upborne, — Yet art thou wretched— wretched, Love, as L The scorning lips are twitched with stifled pain, Tear-dimmed thine eyes as jewels at a breath. The proud breast hides its agony in vain, — Love, we shall both be wretched until death. 69 ' Du bist wie eine Blume " I^HOII art like unto a flower, As fresh and pure and fair ; I gaze on thee, and sadness Steals o'er me unaware. I fain would lay all gently My hands on thy head in prayer, That God may keep thee for ever As fresh and pure and fair. ' Du bist wie eine Blume' 1 THRESH, pure, and fair, you are like a flower. Sadness occupies my heart whatwhile I gaze upon you. I fain would lay my hands upon your head praying God to keep you fresh, pure, and fair. 70 XI ' Das Meer erstrahit im Sonnenschcin ' ^I^HE sea in the golden sunshine -■- Herself might golden be ; My brothers, when I come to die, Oh ! bury me in the sea. The ocean's measured lapse and swell Was ever dear to me ; Oft has it cooled my passion ; Ah ! old-time friends are we. XII ' Wie neubegierig die Mowe ' AH, Love ! the sea-gulls hover, And are watching ever near. As wishful to discover, When thy sweet lips press mine ear, What the sweet low voice has murmured That thrills me so with bliss ; And if love's secret passeth In a whisper or a kiss ! Ah, Love ! what should I answer ? There is none can answer this — Adroitly intermingled Are the whisper and the kiss. XIII ' Ein Yungling liebt ein Madchen ' A YOUNG man loves a maiden Who other hopes has fed. And her love loves another love, And to his choice is wed. The maiden marries straightway The handiest man to be had, And this is simple cussedness, And her young man is mad. It is an ancient drama, But any time 'twill fit — Don't play 'fust gentleman' unless You want your heart to split. 73 XIV ' Aiif Fliigcln des Gesangcs ' AWAY ! To the shore of the Ganges ! Come away ! On the pinions of song. To a bower in green leafage entangled Deep hid from the throng. There, Love, is a garden with flowers That bloom in the pale moonshine ; The lotus-flowers dream of their sister ; Ah ! let them not pine. There violets are whispering softl}', Their eyes to the pale stars climb ; There roses are softly retelling Sweet tales of old time. Darts by, and pauses, and listens, The wary, mild-eyed gazelle ; And the far-heard Ganges quiets The spirit as a spell. Ah ! there will we lie embowered 'Neath the tall palm's spreading crest ; There, Love, will be endless pleasure, And there will be rest. 74 XV ' An deine schneeweisse Schulter ' I AID on thy snow-white shoulder --* My head is at rest ; And I listen — and know the unquiet Desire of thy breast. The gorgeous hussars have stormed it, And entered without strife ! And, to-morrow, a woman will leave me That I love as my life. What tho' in the morning she leave me. To-night she is mine — My head is at rest on her shoulder, And her snow-white arms entwine. 75 XVI ' Und wiissten's die Blumen, die Llelnen ' DID the wee flowers know what sadness Lay hid in my wounded heart, They would shed soft tears till weeping Made sorrow depart. Did the nightingales know it, darling, This sorrow endured so long, They would sing, full-throated, to comfort A suffering heart with song. The bright stars, did they know it. In pity of my woe Would come down from their places in heaven. And shine in my breast below. They none of them know it, darling : The wound, and the heartache, and woe, And the hand that stabbed, and the weapon, One only can know. 76 XVII ' Wie schiindlich du gehandelt ' T HIDE from mankind only ^ What I have borne from thee, And I tell it to the fishes, P'aring far upon the sea. Upon the dry land only You may cherish a good name ; A world of waves is playing With the story of your shame. 77 XVIII ' Mit schwarzen Segeln ' WITH brown sail spread my vessel flies Far over the troubled sea ; Thou knowest I am sick at heart, And still thou grievest me. Thy heart is faithless as the wind That ever will be free : With brown sail spread my vessel flies Far over the troubled sea. 78 XIX ' O, du kanntest Koch und Kiiche ' AH, you knew both cook and kitchen, Hole and corner, gate and door ; When we two met one another, You were ever to the fore. Now the one I love you marry. Drollest fancy, dearest friend ! Only droller this that I Must these congratulations send. 79 XX ' Das Fraulein, stand am Thure ' ON the shore there stands a maiden ; The toil of the day is done. She gazes, and sighs for trouble At the setting of the Sun. The performance is old as the ages ! Thou sorrowest, daughter, in vain ; He dies every night on the billow. And turns up smiling again. 80 XXI ' In den Kiissen welche Luge ' AH, what lies the kisses cover! In their seeming, ah, what bliss ! Sweet it is to lure a lover. Sweeter his delusion is ! Spite thy protestation, fairest, I can tell what thou'lt receive ! I'll believe in all thou swearest, All I swear thou shalt believe. 8i M XXII ' Im wunderschonen Monat Mai * VLL in the merry month of May, Spring's drift of blossom bringing, I cherished in my heart of hearts The flower of love upspringing. All in the merry month of May, When every bird was singing, I spake from out my heart of hearts Of soft desire upspringing. 82 XXIII ' Herz, mein Herz, sei nicht beklommen ' HEART, my heart, yield not to sadness ; Be submissive to thy fate ; Spring shall restore thee — only wait — All that winter steals from gladness. Think but how much there still is left thee ; Think but how fair the world is still ; Heart, my heart, befall what will, Love shall never be bereft thee. 83 XXIV ' Die holden Wiinsche bliilien ' HOPES blossom in the spring-time And wither in the fall ; Blossom and wither and blossom, And death withers all. I know it, and love and laughter Yield naught but a vain unrest ; My heart, so wary and witty — It bleeds in my breast I 84 XXV ' Du liebst mich nicht ' '"r^HOU lovest me not, thou lovest me not, A But that is a little thing ; So I find but grace to see thy face I am happy as a king. Thou hatest hatest me outright ! Dear pouting lips that smiled ! They are sweet lips still, and their kisses will Console me, sweetest child. 85 XXVI *Bist du wirklich mir so feindlich ' AND art thou indeed so unloving ? And art thou for ever estranged ? I'll bemoan to the world my treatment, Now thou art changed. Ye thankless red lips ! Tell me — Can you utter harsh words in dispraise Of him who kissed you so fondly In happier days ? 86 XXVII ' Vergiftet sind meiner Lietlci' MY songs are poisoned, dearest ; How other could they be ? You poured, you know, the poison In the loving-cup for me. My songs are poisoned, dearest ; How other could they be ? There are serpents in my bosom, Ay, serpents. Love, — with thee. 87 XXVIII * Theurer Freund, du bist verliebt ' AH, my old friend, you are smitten ! These be pains of Love that smart; And its darker in your headpiece, And its lighter in your heart. Ah, my old friend, you are smitten ! And you swear it is not so — All the while right through your waistcoat I can see your heart aglow. 88 XXIX ' Die Bergstimme ' ALL sadly through the wild ravine A warrior slowly drave : * Ah I now am I nearer my darling's arms, Or nearer the silent grave ? ' The mountain answer gave — ' The silent grave ! ' And further the warrior rideth, And a sigh breaks from his breast : • And must I then enter the grave so soon ? Ah well, in the grave there is rest ! ' And again — from the mountain crest — * In the grave there is rest ! ' The warrior's brow was troubled, A tear on the bronzed cheek fell : ' Is there no rest tlien in the world for me ? Then the rest of the grave will be well.' The voice from the mountain fell : • The grave will be well ! ' 89 N XXX ♦ Anfangs wolk' ich fast verzagen ' FIRST the spirit failed me, never Could I bear it I'd avow ; I have borne it, howsoever. Only do not ask me — how ? XXXI ' Freundschaft, Liebe, Stein der Weisen ' 1;j^RIENDSHIP, Love, the Sage's Stone, These three prizes all would own : I was of these prizes fain, And I sought them — ah! in vain. QO XXXII ' Am Kreuzweg wird begraben ' THE cross-roads mark his resting Who found no rest till the end ; And thereby is a blue flower springing Called 'The Poor-devil's friend.' I stood in the night by the cross-roads, And sighed for his rest in the end ; And this flower in the moonshine shivered, Called ' The Poor-devil's friend.' 91 XXXIII ' Verrieth mein blasses Angesicht DOKS not my pale face tell thee The load of pain I bear ? Is it thy will from stubborn lips To force a beggar's prayer ? My stubborn lips for very pride With quips and kisses love belie : They speak mayhap a scornful word Whatwhile for anguish I would die. qi >r- XXXIV ' Wir miissen zugleich uns betriiben ' I^IS a matter at once for sorrow. And laughter to refiefi That while hearts are ripe for loving Heads are more circumsped. Do you feel my heart beat, darling — How it with passion glows ? She shakes her head and whispers ♦' For whom it beats, God knows ! " 93 XXXV ' Das ist ein schlcchtes Wetter' WITHOUT, it is snowing and blowing And raining — a perfed sheet ! Within, I sit and glower On a dark forsaken street Where on the pavement glimmers A single flickering light, As a little old woman totters With weak steps through the night. I fancy, she's out buying The butter, eggs, and flour To make a cake for her darling Big daughter to devour Who lies in the armchair musing, And blinks in the light, and dreams — Down over her face the loosened hair In golden splendour streams. 94 I XXXVI ' Wenn ich an deinem Hause ' T PASS at morn the cottage, •* And thy chamber window see, And am glad at heart, my darling. If I gain but a glimpse of thee. Th}- great brown eyes regard me With timid questioning now — " Who art thou, and what comfort, Sad stranger, lackest ihou ? " I am a German sino-cr. In Germany renowned. Where the noblest names are numbered, There my name will be found. And what I lack, lack man}' In my land more than gold ; Where they tell of saddest sorrows, My sorrow will be told. 95 XXXVII * Auf meiner Herzliebsten Aiigelein ' AH ! once, in praise of her sweet eyes, I penned an artful Canzonet, To dimpled cheeks where laughter lies The noblest Stanza fashioned yet, To win from loveliest lips a prize I wrestled with the Terzinet, And if her heart were worth her bonnet, I say so — in a lovely Sonnet. qb XXXVIII ' Das Herz ist mir bedruckt ' MY heart is troubled, and I think With longing of the olden time When in a pleasant world men dwelt, And Life ran peacefully as rhyme. Hut now IS this all overset, And all is strain and stress instead : The Lord above, he is no more ; Down under is the Devil dead. And all is rotten, mean and vain, Sad, sullen, and of joy bereft : There were no halting-place for Pain Hut that a little Love is left. 97 o XXXIX * Ich hatte einst ein schones Vaterland ' EREWHILE I had a dcar-loved Fatherland; Meseemed the oak There grew so tall ; there violets clustered low — It was a dream. It brought a kiss from out my Fatherland : It spake (oh heart, How sweet the sound !) but one word, * I love thee I'- ll was a dream. 98 XL IVo? WHERE shall one all travcl-wcary Courting rest at last recline ? In the South beneath a palm-tree ? Under lindens by the Rhine ? Shall I lie upon the desert, Covered by a stranger's hand ? Or find resting where the billows Sweep an undiscovered strand ? Onwards ever. Heaven is hanging His pall about me — there as here ; And, for torches, stars at midnight Overhead are burning clear. 99 CHISWICK PRESS : — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. The Bodley Head, Vigo Street, London, W. May, 1890. MR. 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