UC-NRLF SB E57 755 UNIY6RS1TY OP CALlfORNlA LIBRARY GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN AND FRENCH POETS. BY EDWARD CHAWNER, LATE CAPT. 77TH REGT., D.C.6. WARD, LOCK, AND CO., WARWICK HOUSE, DORSET BUILDINGS, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.G. CONTENTS. Alexis and Dora . Epigram Elegy on the Noble Wife of Assan Aga The Dead in the Sea . At Night Deception Sword Song I was He And that was You Cradle Song Separation From the Distance Interrupted Bliss True Rose Would'st thou do for thyself the best Sea Voyage Wallhaide The Eagle and the Dove Prometheus Spring's Oracle The Wanderer's Night Song PAGE . . . Goethe . I ,, 12 issan Aga 13 . Freiligrath 17 . Korner 20 . Beck 21 . Korner 22 ,, 26 27 29 . 30 . Korner . 31 32 34 .e best . . Goethe 37 ,, 37 f . . Korner . 39 . . . Goethe So . 52 54 ,, ' 56 396137 Heavenward .... Open House .... "With a Master all smoothly goes The Wanderer by the Sawmill . Love's Endurance The Lordling and the Maid of the Mill Mignon . . Like to Like .... Effect at a Distance The Castle on the Hill . Presence May Song .... Recovery .... Semblance of Death First Loss .... Prosperous Voyage Welcome and Departure W T ith a Painted Girdle . Nectar Drops .... The Limits of Humanity Turn to Good Account thy Day Nearness of the Beloved The Shepherd's Complaint The Wood Rose I could no greater Sorrow own The Skin of a Dead Fox is valuable . Loving Reminiscence . Reminiscence .... To Mignon . . Spirit Greeting .... The Treasure-Seeker , PAGE Seidel . 57 Goethe . 58 . 60 T. Kerncr 60 Freiligrath 6 1 Goethe Goethe 63 66 67 67 69 72 73 74 76 76 76 77 79 80 81 82 83 84. 85 86 86 8 7 89 89 CONTENTS. vii One of the mightiest Actions is that Goethe PAGE 93 The Bride of Corinth . 93 Thou art Everywhere . Schultze . . 101 Lore Lei . Heine . 102 The Little Cot . Gleim . 104 To Leucon >, . 105 Would'st thou Nothing useless buy Goethe . 105 The Bee and the Gardener's Daughter . Gleim . 106 Awake, my Heart, and Sing . Klopstock . . 106 Who serves the Public is a sorry Beast Goethe . 108 The Three Realms of Nature . Lessing . . 108 Lenore ..... Burger . w 109 The Minstrel .... Goethe . 119 After-Thought .... ,, . 121 The Diver .... Schiller . . 121 A Thousand Flies did I at Even slay . Goethe . 128 Ah ! did but the Flowers know Heine . 128 Why do the Roses wanly look ? . 129 Thou Beauteous Fisher Maiden > 130 Truly unlucky is that Man Goethe 131 The Right Word Stolterfoth 131 In the Summer .... Goethe . 132 Thy Image .... Lenau - 133 Impatience .... Wilhelm Muller 135 Lilie's Park .... Goethe 136 The Visit . . 142 The Goblet . ,, . 144 Who then is the Sovereign Man ? ,, . 145 Hero and Leander Schiller . . 146 Death Harmonies Uhland . . 157 After Call . JCQ Vlll CONTENTS. PAGE The Partition of the Earth . Schiller . .160 The Wanderer Goethe . .162 Tender Thoughts . . 170 Love as Landscape Painter . 170 In the World do Things go with you 111 ,, . .173 Jager Song Theodore Korner . 173 Blucher and Wellington Frederick Ruckert . 175 Drinking Song before Battle Theodore Korner . 176 Boy Robert's Oath . Ernst Moritz Arndt . 177 Andrew Hofer Julius Mosen. . 178 The Good Steed . Witzel . .180 In My Vicinity Goethe . .181 Trooper Song Friedrich V. Schiller . 181 The Trooper's Morning Song WilhelmHauff . 183 Amelia .... Schiller . .184 To the Absent One Goethe . .185 Woe is me, oh woe ! . 186 Comfort in Sorrow . . 186 The Field-Marshal . Ernst Moritz Arndt . 188 The Youth and the Mill Stream Goethe . .190 The Violet .... . 192 Self-Deception . 193 The Coquette Goethe . .194 The Convert 195 Song . . . Heine . -195 The Chapel . 196 How canst Thou Sleep so Quiet ? . 197 Song .... Herder . . 197 Catechizmus Goethe . .198 The Tree in the Odenwald . Herlossohn . . 199 The Grenadiers Heine . . 200 CONTENTS. PAGE -/-The King in Thule . . . . Goethe . 202 The Leaf ..... Arnault . 203 'Tis the greatest Blunder in Creation . Goethe . 203 The Broken Ring .... Eichendorff . 204 The Monk and the Shepherd . . Uhland . 205 ] ^Eyening Song .... Ruckert . 206 "The Two Coffins . . . . T. Kerner . 207 The Way of the World . . . Uhland . 208 Wood Song ....,, . 209 The Richest Prince. . . . Kerner . 210 Wanderer's Song .... Goethe . 211 New Love, New Life . . . ,, .212 Vanitas, Vanitatum Vanitas . . ,, .214 Perfectly Happy .... Uhland . 216 Secluded .....,, . 217 Peasant Rules ....,, . 217 Margaret and Hans . . . . ,, .218 Sir Olof ..... Schiller .218 Three Maidens .... Uhland . 220 Prayer in Battle . . . . Kb'rner . 224 Song ..... Heine . 226 The White Hart .... Uhland . 226 The Daisy . . . . . G. W. Fink . 227 Grave Song ..... Mahlmann . 229 To Him . . . . ,, . 230 Oh that it were according to my Will ! . Goethe . 231 War Song against the French . . Arndt . 231 Eternity . . . . . . .233 The Nun ..... Uhland . 235 The Wreath . . . .236 True Walter . . . .237 CONTENTS. PAGR The Shepherd's Winter Song . . Uhland . 239 "My Heart, I have a Question " . . Kalm . . 240 The Black Knight .... Uhland . 241 From the Mountain . . . Goethe . . 244 Soldier's Farewell .... . 244 Soldier's Morning Song . . . Schenkendorf . 246 The Rhine Watch .... Arndt . . 247 A Spring Evening . . . . F. Riickert . 249 The Angler .... Goethe . .250 Found . . . . ,, . 252 Declaration of War . . . 253 May Song . . . . ,, . 254 Call to Arms .... Arndt . -255 The Three Comrades . . . Riickert .257 Comfort at Parting . . . A. V. Kotzebue . 259 The Trusty Comrade . . . Uhland . 260 The Song of the Rhine . . . Nich Becker .261 Dream Pictures .... Heine . . 262 - From the Hartz Journey : Mountain Idyl . ,, . 267 - The Goldsmith's Daughter . . Uhland . 271 The Ring . . . . . . . 274 The Hunting at Winchester . . ,, . 276 War Harvest Song . . . W. Moltke .277 ^Barbarossa in Kyffhaiiser . . . Fr. Riickert . 278 Before the Battle . . . . A. Kaufman . 280 To the French Nation . . . E. Ritterhaus . 282 The Minstrel's Curse . . . Uhland . 284 Morning Song .... Wilhelm Hertz . 288 The Oath of Father Rhine . . F. Bucker . 289 Thus shall it be . . . . F. Freiligrath . 290 CONTENTS. To the Mothers whose Sons have Fallen in Battle for the Fatherland . . J. Sturm . 292 The Churchyard in Spring . . Uhland . 294 The Four Seasons . . . Goethe . . 294 The Wandering Bell . . . .309 Faithful Eckart . . . ,, .310 The Faithless Youth . . . ,, .312 The Dance of the Dead . . . 314 Duet for the Dance . . ,, 316 Beautiful Night . . . ,, /, . 318 To Luna . . . . ,, . .318 Mischievous Pleasure . . ,, . 320 Early Spring . . . . ,, . . 321 To a Golden Heart, that he wore round his Neck Goethe . 322 In the Distant Horizon . . . Heine . . 323 - The Modern Pansias and his Flower Girl Goethe . . 324 The Rivulet .... Schiller. . 336 The Wondrous Fair Flower . . Goethe . . 337 An Old Saying . . . . W. Tensen . 341 Hurrah, Germania ! . . . F. Freiligrath . 342 Landwehr . . . . . H. Pechojf . 346 When Germany's concerned . . W. Constant . 348 War Song . . . . . R. Gottschall . 349 Soldier's Farewell , . . . . 351 Song of the Fatherland . . . E. M. Arndt . 353 Song for the March . . . Edmund Hoefer 355 To the Mourners . . . . . -357 Erlkonig ..... Goethe . . 359 To Petrarch . . . Uhland . . 361 The Castle by the Sea . . ,, . 361 Madrigal . . . . . A. Van Hasselt 363 CONTENTS. Since our Hours below we find The Caterpillar From Boileau's " Art of Poetry " Cato's Bon Mot The Power of Fable . The Angel and Child . . The JEagle and the Sunbeam . The Tight - rope Dancer and the Balance-pole The House of Cards . The Sufferings of Winter Where do all Things go ? From the French Blissful Death The Landlady's Daughter Exalted Love .... The Boy and the Maid Harold .... Love's Complaints : the Student The Family Vault Victor Hugo Florian Boileau Bar at on La Fontaine Reboul Lamartine . Florian Edward Turquetty , Andre Van Hasselt Uhland Arndt Uhland 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 372 373 374 375 377 379 380 385 388 fr0m tire ALEXIS AND DORA. AH ! how every moment the vessel incessantly labours Through the seething sea further and further away, Long furrows leaving the keel of the vessel behind her ; the dolphins Gamboling follow, as tho' from them the prey would escape. All augurs well for a prosperous voyage ; the calm, sedate sailor Gently doth haul on the sail which for all labouring swells. Forwards are pressing the hopes of the crew, like the ensign and pennant, One of them only aloof stands with his back to the mast, On the blue vanishing mountain now gazes, in the deep waters Sees them fading from him fadeth all pleasure away. :F$Q]r THE GERMAN POETS. Vanishes also the vessel from thy longing gaze which Alexis From thee, O Dora, alas ! lover and bridegroom, doth steal. After me also thou gazest in vain ; for each other our hearts are Still palpitating, but oh ! 'gainst one another no more. Oh thou ineffable moment of my whole life ! thou outweighest All other days, which from me, vanishing coldly, have fled. Ah ! in that moment alone, that last, existence descended All unwitting from thee, as tho' it fell from the gods. All in vain with thy light dost thou illumine the ether, Thy bright-shining ray, Phoebus, is hateful to me ! Deep within my own breast I turn my glances in quiet. There I the time will recall when on me daily she shone ; Was it possible beauty to see and not to desire it ? On thy blunted sense worked not the heavenly charm ? Blame not thyself, wretched man : so the poet reads an enigma, Artfully fenced in with words, oft in the company's ear ; Each one is pleased with the rare combination of elegant figures, ALEXIS AND DORA. Yet still is lacking the word which the true meaning unfolds. Should it at length be discovered, brightened up then is everyone's spirit, And a sense doubly enhanced doth in the verses perceive. Wherefore so late didst thou of the fillets, Cupid, deprive me, Which o'er my eyes thou hadst bound, why didst thou take them so late ? Long ago freighted, the vessel awaited favouring breezes, Luckily strove from the shore seaward the breezes at last. O vain seasons of youth ! O empty dreams of the future ! Ye are fled, and to me only one hour doth remain. Yes, it remains, that felicity lingers, Dora, I hold thee, And expectation to me, Dora, thy form alone shows. Oft to the temple I saw thee going, adorned and decorous, And thy dear mother, arrayed festively, walked at thy side; Early and eager wast thou to the market thy fruitage conveying, 4 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And from the fountain how deft poised was the pail on thy head ! Then was thy throat to be seen, that neck beyond others most lovely, And, surpassing the rest, grace in each movement . appeared. Ofttimes was I afraid lest, falling, thy pitcher were shattered, But on its ringleted pad did it securely remain. So accustomed was I to gaze on thee, beautiful neighbour, As one doth gaze on the stars, as one doth look on the moon, In their beauty rejoicing, and deep in the calm, peace- ful bosom Not the most distant desire for their possession doth rise. Thus did ye pass, O ye years ! Scarce twenty paces apart stood Our two houses, yet ne'er have I the threshold once crossed. Now divides us this horrible flood ; thou deceivest only heaven. Thy blue, O wave, is to me only the colour of night. All was now in commotion. Running in haste came a stripling ALEXIS AND DORA. 5 Up to my father's abode, called me away to the shore. " E'en now bend they the sails, they flap in the breezes," thus spoke he, " And the anchor, weighed, forcibly parts from the sand ; Hasten, Alexis ! oh come ! " Then my worthy, vigor- ous father, Resting his hands on my head, murmured a blessing the while. Mournfully reached my mother a bundle prepared ready for me ; " Prosperous mayst thou return, prosperous," cried they, "and rich." Off did I bound forthwith, bearing under my arms the dear bundle. Over the wall and down ; thee near the wicket I saw Of thy garden : thou laughedst and saidst unto me, " O Alexis, Does what yonder I hear bode the departure of friends ? Foreign shores soon thou'lt be seeking, and costliest merchandise buying, Jewels and ornaments rare, for the rich dames of the town. Bring me a little chain also and I will gratefully pay you; 6 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Oh how oft have I longed such little gaud to possess." Motionless stood I then, and asked, in the manner of merchants, For the shape and exact weight of thy little behest ; Modestly didst thou consider the price, meanwhile was I looking At thy beautiful throat, worthy the gems of our queen. More importunate came the shouts from the shore ; then saidst thou, " Out of our garden with thee some of our fruit take, I pray. Ripest of oranges choose, and whitest of figs : the sea beareth No fruit, nor yet are they produce of every land." Then did I enter in ; the fruit thou didst speedily bring me, And thy apron, trussed up, carried the bright golden load. Often I prayed, "There is more than enough," yet ever another Fairer fruit, by thy hand shaken, therein lightly fell. Into the arbour thou earnest at last ; there found we a basket, And the myrtle in bloom arched itself over our heads ; Deftly thou didst commence to arrange the fruitage in silence : ALEXIS AND DORA. First came the orange, which like ball of gold heavily rests ; Next came the delicate fig, which each lightest pressure disfigures ; And with myrtle sprays hid and adorned was the gift. Yet did I not take it up. I stood, we looked at each other In our eyes, and to me misty all seemed to my gaze. Beating against my own I felt thy heart, round thy fair neck Did my arm circling clasp, thousand times clasped I thy neck. Down on my shoulder declined thy head, now close pressing also Thy lovely arms, as a chain, round the blest captive were thrown. Cupid's hands then did I feel, he forcibly drew us together, And from a clear atmosphere thundered it thrice ; then the tears Poured down in streams from my eyes ; thou didst weep and I did weep also, And for sorrow and joy seemed to me fading trie world. Ever more clamorous shouts from the shore, my feet would not thither 8 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Carry me. Cried I aloud, " Dora ! and art thou not mine ? " " Always," softly was whispered by thee. Then the tears that we wept were, As tho' by heavenly airs, wafted away from our eyes. Nearer the shouts came " Alexis ! " There gazed ' the boy seeking for me Thro' the wicket on us. How on the basket he seized ! Oh how he urged me along, how I grasped thy hand, to the vessel ! How did I reach it ? I know like to one drunken I seemed, And thus deemed of me also my comrades, and pitied the sick one ; And the far-distant town vapour and mist now con- cealed. "Always," Dora, thou lispedst. In my ears .echoes that " always " With the thunder of Jove. Stood she yet near to the throne, His fair daughter, the goddess of Love : the Graces were standing By her side, and the league stands ratified by the gods. Speed thou, good vessel, away, impelled by prosperous breezes ! ALEXIS AND DORA. 9 Struggle, thou mighty keel, foamy waves parting in twain ! Bring me safe within the strange harbour, that for me the goldsmith May in his workshop prepare quickly the heavenly pledge. That small chain by my faith shall be changed to a fetter, O Dora ! Ninefold shall it repose, loosely entwined, round thy neck; Ornaments, too, shall be fashioned, the most multi- farious ; golden Clasps shalt thou have also richly adorning the hand ; Em'rald and ruby shall vie with each other, the lovely-hued sapphire Shall with the jacinth be set in opposition, and gold Shall the rich jewels hold in sweet combination together. Oh to the bridegroom what joy only in decking the bride ! Gaze I on pearls, straight I think upon thee, with each jewelled circlet Straight to my eyes thy hand's slender proportions arise : Barter and purchase will I, and thou shalt have choice of the rarest, io GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Gladly to thee would devote all the contents of the shop. Yet not gems and ornaments only procures thee thy lover, All that a notable wife wishes for, brings he to thee, Fine woollen blankets, and stuffs purple-edged to furnish our couch with, That it may grateful repose kindly and softly afford. Pieces of costly linen thou sitting dost spin, making garments For thee and me, and who knows? for a third also, perhaps. Pictures of hope ! how my heart ye deceive ! Appease, O ye Powers ! This fierce burning desire which thro' my bosom doth rage. But even this do I long to recall, this grief-giving pleasure, When upon me icy woe, hideously passive, doth brood ; Not the torch of the furies, or growl of the guardian of Hades Frightens the criminal more in the dark realms of despair, Than doth that still spectral form of the maiden, seen in the distance, ALEXIS AND DORA. 11 Frighten me. Truly I see : still the gate open remains, And another approaches. For him also falls the ripe fruitage, And the fig also for him strengthening honey vouch- safes. Lures she him into the arbour and follows he ? Deities, strike me Blind ! Oh obliterate all form of memory in me ! Yes, the same maiden it is, and she who so soon to the first one Yielded, speedily now is to the second resigned. Smile not, O Jove, this time, upon promises broken so lately ; Thunder thou awfully, strike ! Hold back thy light- nings, O Jove ! Pour thy rolling clouds upon me ! In the darkness nocturnal Hurl thy gleaming bolts down on this ill-fated mast ! Scatter her timbers around, and give to the death- dealing waters This merchandise ! and me, give to the dolphins, a prey ! Now, O ye Muses, enough ! In vain ye strive to describe how Joy and sorrow in turn in loving bosoms hold sway, 14 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. When his wife received the cruel message, Rigid stood the true one full of sorrow, At the gate she hears the horses' trampling, And bethinks her 'tis her husband Assan. To hurl herself therefrom she mounts the tower ; Anxiously her two fond daughters follow, Loudly cry they, bitter tear-drops weeping, " Tis not the horses of our father Assan, 7 Tis thy brother Pintorovich coming." Assan's wife again her steps retracing Cast her arms loud wailing round her brother ; " See the shame, O brother, of thy sister ! Me cast off, of these five children mother ! " Silent drew the brother from his pocket, Bound up in a scarlet silken wrapper, Ready drawn, the deed of separation, That she should return unto her mother, Free to give herself unto another. The doleful deed no sooner cast she eyes on, Kissed she both her sons upon the forehead, Kissed the cheeks of both her loving daughters ; But from the suckling in his crib, alas ! Could she not tear herself for bitter sorrow. ELEGY ON ASS AN AGA'S WIFE. 15 Tears her away at last her wrathful brother, Mounts her quickly on his noble charger, And thus speeds he with the timid woman Straightway to his mighty sire's dwelling. Short the time, there had not passed days seven ; Short time enough ! By many a mighty chieftain Our good wife again is sought in marriage, Our good wife in all her widowed sorrow. And the mightiest was Imoski's Cadi, And the dame prayed sobbing to her brother, " I beseech thee, by thy soul's existence, Give me not in marriage to another, Lest again my little ones beholding, My poor darlings, I should be heart-broken." No heed paid the brother to her prayers, Determined she should marry the Cadi ; Still the poor woman prayed him ceaselessly, " Send at least a message, O my brother, With these words unto Imoski's Cadi, Gives thee friendly greeting the young widow, And by these letters prays most earnestly, That when the Suatens shall escort thee hither, A long veil thou wilt bring to cover me, That from Assan's house I may be hidden, Nor behold again my orphan children." 1 6 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Scarcely had the Cadi read the letter, Than he all the Suatens did assemble, On his journey to the bride departed, Taking the veil she had besought of him. Safe they reached the palace of the princess, Safe with her they back again returned ; But as they approached the house of Assan, Gazed the children down upon their mother, Cried out, " Oh come unto thy home again, And thy evening meal eat with thy children : " Sorrowfully did Assan's consort hear it, Turned she to the leader of the Suatens : " Let, I beg, the Suatens and their horses Halt a short time at the much-loved portals, For my little ones I have some presents." And they halted at the much-loved portals ; She did presents make to her poor darlings, Gave her sons a pair of boots gold broidered, Gave her daughters rich long flowing garments, And the baby, helpless in the cradle, Gave for future wear a little jacket. This aside saw father Assan Aga, Called he sadly to his darling children, "Hard as iron is your mother's bosom, Fast closed up, and cannot feel compassion." THE DEAD IN THE SEA. 17 Heard these words no sooner Assan's consort, Straightway fell she shivering to the ground, And her soul sped from her weary bosom, As she saw her children from her flying. THE DEAD IN THE SEA. 'NEATH the green waves of ocean deep, On banks of shell and sand, There many a vessel's crew doth sleep That gaily pushed from land. The billows hurled their vessel frail Down on the rocky ground, And in the storm, tho' strong and hale, An early death they found. Beneath green ocean's waves deep-down, On rocks and shelly bank, There slumbers many another one Ne'er in the tempest sank. In narrow cabin cold and grim, Ere port was gained he died, Then to a plank they fastened him, And heaved him o'er the side. i8 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The ocean-bed is one huge grave, Its breast a burial-ground, The swelling of each little wave Is a sepulchral mound. Oh could we underneath once be, Did Ocean quit its bed, Long rows of slumberers we should see, With polypi twined greedily Midst corpses white and red. Beneath, their pillows might be seen, Moss, sand, and green seaweed, And how with naked teeth they grin Midst finny shoals that feed. There might be seen the bony arms By saw-fish polished bright, And by the kindly mermaid swarms With curious gifts bedight. This one anoints, the other braids Their locks that tangled lie, And o'er their bony faces spreads The purple shell-fish dye. One comes with string of shells in hand, One sings a sad lament, And brightly gleams the whole dead band With wondrous ornament. THE DEAD IN THE SEA. 19 Might see the hand and knuckles bright With yellow amber bound, And how the naked skulls gleam white With wreaths of coral crowned. And costly pearls of purest hue Instead of eyes might see, And how the ocean's motley crew Their bones sucked greedily. Each slender mast you might behold, That erst had braved the storm, Now fast within the sea-rocks hold, Reared o'er the dead man's form. The dead fast rooted in his bed, Whom worm and fish devour, The sleeper dreams he sees instead His native village tower. Yes, there beneath the green sea-wave, With silvery pearls beside, There lieth many a sailor brave Beneath the waves that died. He sleeps afar from home and all, His tomb no blossoms grace, No comrade's eye a tear lets fall Upon the dead man's face. 20 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. His sleep is sweet yet o'er his tomb No rosemary is seen, No fragrance of the roses bloom, No weeping willow green. What matters it ? Tho' on him there No rain of tears may flow, The Ocean's dead but little care They're moist enough below. FREILIGRATH. AT NIGHT. GOOD-NIGHT ! Hasten to the weary, Night ; Wanes the day in silence closing, Busy hands are now reposing, Till aroused by morning light. Good-night ! Go to rest ! Close let weary eyes be pressed ; Stillness o'er the streets is growing, Hark ! the watchman's horn is blowing, And the night bids all men rest : Go to rest ! DECEPTION. Slumber, eyes ! Dream each of his Paradise. Those who suffer love's vexation, Sweet dreams bring them consolation, Greetings as of lover's kiss. Slumber, eyes ! Good-night ! Slumber till the break of day, Slumber till the new-born morrow Bring its load of new-born sorrow ; Fear not ! God is watchful aye ! Good-night ! KORNER. DECEPTION. METHOUGHT the swallow was dreaming now Of its dear nest, Methought the skylark was thinking now Of choral feast. Methought with kisses young Zephyr now The flowers caressed, Methought that I held thee loving now Fast to my breast.. 20 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. His sleep is sweet yet o'er his tomb No rosemary is seen, No fragrance of the roses bloom, No weeping willow green. What matters it ? Tho' on him there No rain of tears may flow, The Ocean's dead but little care They're moist enough below. FREILIGRATH. AT NIGHT. GOOD-NIGHT ! Hasten to the weary, Night ; Wanes the day in silence closing, Busy hands are now reposing, Till aroused by morning light. Good-night ! Go to rest ! Close let weary eyes be pressed ; Stillness o'er the streets is growing, Hark ! the watchman's horn is blowing, And the night bids all men rest : Go to rest ! DECEPTION. 21 Slumber, eyes ! Dream each of his Paradise. Those who suffer love's vexation, Sweet dreams bring them consolation, Greetings as of lover's kiss. Slumber, eyes ! Good-night ! Slumber till the break of day, Slumber till the new-born morrow Bring its load of new-born sorrow ; Fear not ! God is watchful aye ! Good-night ! KORNER. DECEPTION. METHOUGHT the swallow was dreaming now Of its dear nest, Methought the skylark was thinking now Of choral feast. Methought with kisses young Zephyr now The flowers caressed, Methought that I held thee loving now Fast to my breast.. 22 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. How winterly blew ye yesternight, Ye breezes mild ! How blossoms and buds were yesternight By hoar-frost killed ! How quickly the lark was yesternight Of song beguiled ! And how forgottest thou yesternight Thy own poor child ! BECK. SWORD SONG. SWORD at my side, what mean Thy flashes bright and keen ? So friendly gleams thy face, My joy on thee I place. Hurrah ! " I'm borne by stalwart knight, And therefore glitter bright ; Am weapon of the free, And that rejoices me. Hurrah ! " SWORD SONG. 23 Yes, good sword, free am I, And love thee doatingly, As if here at my side Thou wert my plighted bride. Hurrah ! " My bright and iron soul Is in thy full control ; Oh were we plighted now ; Thy bride when fetchest thou ? Hurrah ! " To blushing bridal night The trumpets gay invite, When cannon roar and shriek .My darling bride I'll seek Hurrah ! " Oh hour of bliss divine, For thy embrace I pine ! O bridegroom, come for me, My garland waits for thee. Hurrah ! " Bright joyous iron thing, Why in thy sheath dost ring ? So wild and battle-proud, Why clashest, sword, so loud ? Hurrah ! 24 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " I clash so loud to show My ardour 'gainst the foe, So wild and battle-proud, That's why I clash so loud. Hurrah ! " Rest in thy narrow cell, What dost thou here, love, tell ? Rest in thy chamber small, Until for thee I call. Hurrah ! " Oh make no long delay ! To love's sweet fields away, Where roses blood-red blow, Where Death's sweet flowers grow. Hurrah!" Out of thy scabbard fly, O feast to warrior's eye ! Out of thy sheath, sword, come ! Forth to the Father's home ! Hurrah ! " How grand in heaven's expanse To join the bridal dance ! How gleams in bride-array The steel in sun's bright ray ! Hurrah ! " SWORD SONG. 25 Up ! German knights, away ! Bold warriors, to the fray ! Glow not your bosoms warm ? Your brides take to your arm ! Hurrah ! To left at first was cast A stolen glance : at last To the right hand the bride By God was firmly tied. Hurrah ! Let bridal lips of steel Your lips with kisses seal ; Accursed may he be Who from his bride would flee ! Hurrah ! Now let your love loud sing, And sparks around her fling ! Hurrah ! the nuptial morn, O bride of steel, doth dawn. Hurrah ! KORNER. 26 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. I WAS HE. I LATELY dreamed I saw in morn's young light A maiden resting on a sunlit height ; So sweet, so fair, she seemed thyself to be. Before her on his knees a youth did rest, Who seemed to press her softly to his breast, And I was he ! But soon the scene a different aspect bare ; In a deep stream I now behold the fair. Just as her strength seemed weakliest to be, There rushed a youth with ready help to save, Who sprang to her and drew her from the wave,- And I was he ! Thus coloured was this dream in motley guise, And love did over all victorious rise, And all revolved around thee ceaselessly. Free and unshackled didst thou onward fly, The youth pursued with mute fidelity, And I was he ! And when at last from out my dream I woke, New yearning came to me as daylight broke ; AND THAT WAS YOU. 27 Thy sweet and loving form remained with me, I saw the kisses on thy glowing face, I saw thee happy in the youth's embrace, And I was he ! At last thou steppedst forth upon life's scene, And met me with a sweet and friendly mien, And deep, deep yearning seized fast hold on me. Didst thou not madding glances on him dart ? What bliss and rapture swelled his beating heart ! And I was he ! Within life's higher circle was I led. All power of effort unto thee was wed, All yearnings of my soul appeal to thee ; And should thy heart hereafter any gain, Oh would that I might cry with loud refrain, Yes ! I was he ! KORNER. AND THAT WAS YOU. ON rosy pinions came the dawning day, And me from deepest slumber drew, Soft inspiration fell as there I lay, And on my songs the ideal shed its ray, And that was you ! 28 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. But soon a midday's sultriness oppressed ; The sun its ardour on me threw, And lofty aspirations swelled my breast : In all my efforts to one goal I pressed, And that was you ! At length upon the scorched-up plains was shed The evening's sweet and cooling dew ; The outline of a form in mist portrayed Hovered around me with light spirit tread, And that was you ! And night rose from the ocean in the west, And me to sweet repose did woo, I dreamed to a soft bosom I was pressed, And cradled in a maiden's arms did rest, And that was you ! Too scon the lovely vision fled I wis, The world of dreams was closed to view, Oh let me waking now enjoy this bliss, Then cried I loud, all glowing from thy kiss, " Yes, that was you ! " KORNER. CRADLE SONG. 29 CRADLE SONG. SOFT be thy slumbers ! on thy mother's heart Feelest thou nothing of life's woe and zest, Thy young dreams nothing know of pain and smart, Thy world is bounded by thy mother's breast. How sweet to us those dreams of early days, When mother's love alone our life doth fill ! Their memory has melted into haze, Forebodings but remain my soul to thrill. Thrice may mankind in such sweet warmth delight, Thrice to the favoured 'tis allowed to be That in the god-like arms of love he might Believe upon life's higher destiny. 'Tis love that gives the first rich benison : The suckling blooms in rapture, and is blest, Upon his fresh face smileth everyone, And love doth press him to a mother's breast. Butwhen sad clouds obscure the heaven's light, And on his path all groweth dark and dim, Then once again, as her heart's best delight, Love to her soft embraces taketh him. 30 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Stem and blossom see the tempest rending ! And in storms the heart of man is riven, As Death's angel, Love, again descending, Bears him with her jubilant to heaven. KORNER. SEPARATION. IT is the Almighty's fixed decree That man from all he loves must be Aye parted ; Yet nought the heart so sorely rends As sorrow for the dearest friends Departed, departed ! If thou hast plucked a rosebud fair, And kept it in a vase with care, Know surely, The rose that blooms with morning's light Will fade and perish ere the night, Ah surely, yes surely ! Has God vouchsafed thee some fond heart Thou deemest of thy own a part, Thine only ? FROM THE DISTANCE. 31 A little while thou mayst it keep, 'Twill soon be gone, and thou wilt weep, All lonely, all lonely ! Now must you read my meaning plain, My meaning plain ; When friends are parting they are fain To say, " Farewell, to meet again ! To meet again, to meet again ! " FROM THE DISTANCE. TIME ne'er to be recalled swift wings doth ply, 'Tis memory only that retains its ground ; Sweet dream with mist and vapour wreathed around, The sacred legacy of hours gone by. That life's joy I have tasted, well is me ! That with a dauntless heart I strove to rise ! Thy form now hovers round in friendly guise, Oh that my chains were loosed, and I were free ! Thou beam'st upon me in morn's roseate glow, I see thee in the starry dome of night, The brook reflects thee in its silvery flow. 32 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Thy spell is on me in the spring-days bright, I hear thee in the murmuring waterfall, And on thy name doth echo sweetly call. KORNER. INTERRUPTED BLISS. MY blood is young and hot I own, And that too well ye wist, And though to kissing very prone, Yet have I never kissed. And tho' my sweetheart's fond of me, It seems as if 'twere not to be ; Whatever arts I may employ, I never can a kiss enjoy. My neighbour's Rose is kind to me : She passed the meadows through, I followed her courageously, One arm around her threw. But as I touched her boddice band, I ran a needle in my hand ; The blood poured out, so home I tore, And with my kissing all was o'er. INTERRUPTED BLISS. 33 Just now to pass the time I went And met her at the ford ; My arm around her waist I bent, And for a kiss implored. Her rosy lips were ready pursed, When out the watch-dog on us burst, And bit me fiercely thro' the leg, 'Twas up with kissing then, I feg ! I sat before her door one day In joy and blissful rest, Her little hand in mine she lay, I pressed her to my breast. Her sire jumped from behind the gate, Where he had hid to watch and wait, And, as was commonly my fate, For kiss the third I was too late ! Was at her house but yesterday, Then whispered she to me, " My window looks across the way : To-night I wait for thee." I came there full of love's fond hope, And raised my ladder 'neath the cope. Beneath my weight it snapped in two, And spoiled were all my kisses too. 3 34 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And every time it serves me so : That I should suffer this ! My whole life will be sad and slow Should I not get a kiss. Poor wight ! what have I done, alack ! That on me luck should look so black ? Who hears me now compassion take, And kiss me too for pity's sake ! KORNER. TRUE ROSE. THERE was once a bold brave hunter, who knew Right well where a sweet young rosebud grew ; Far dearer than all his gold was she, And light and jocund of heart was he If only this rose he saw : Trala ! trala ! trala ! When wet were the blossoms with evening dew, Off to his bride the brave hunter he flew ; To see her he sped, and his voice loud rang With song and carol, and horn's shrill clang, Until his true rose he saw : Trala ! trala ! trala ! TRUE ROSE. 35 " O true little rose, my song dost thou hear, Where blossoms alone thy name so dear ? The year of betrothal is gone : with speed Little rosebud to the altar I'll lead." And little rose answered, " Aye." Trala ! trala t trala ! And when from his horse he sprang, at her side He sat, and 'his sweetheart with kisses plied, And stayed with her until the dead of night In silent rapture and great delight, To his rosebud's heart so near. Trala ! trala ! trala ! The little stars paled, and the morn rose grey, From his sweet bride hasted the hunter away, And hunted through forest and field and plain, And followed a stag that fled amain, Such a fine one he never saw. Trala ! trala ! trala ! And the stag from a tall crag's topmost crown To a rocky chasm sprang blindly down, And after him plunged in the deep, deep grave The mettlesome steed and the hunter brave : Eye of man them no more saw ! Trala ! trala ! trala ! 36 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And when evening had wept her tears of dew, For her lover waited the rosebud true ; She waited and watched for the voice that rang With carol and song and horn's shrill clang ; No lover coming she saw. Trala ! trala ! trala ! And as it came to the hour of midnight, In her bed watched true rose in sorry plight ; She wept and she wept till her eyes grew red : " Why keep me waiting in anguish and dread, Dear love ; art thou still afar ? " Trala ! trala ! trala ! Then all at once she heard a horn ring, And a whisper light as when spirits sing : " Come, sweetheart, the nuptial knot is tied, The bed is ready : come, sweet rose-bride, Thy lover long since is there." Trala! trala! trala! Thro' her frame a cold icy shudder passed ; The arms of a spirit were round her fast, And a still breeze swept thro' her quaking heart, As of nuptial bliss and Death's fell smart ; And softly she whispered, " Aye." Trala ! trala ! trala ! SEA VOYAGE. 37 In her throbbing breast the blood stood still, And her heart burst broke with a dying thrill, And the hunter bore home his rosebud bride : Up yonder the nuptial knot is tied, True rosebud is wedded there. Trala! trala ! trala. KORNER, WOULD'ST thou do for thyself the best, Upon thyself be sure not rest ; But follow thou a master mind, With him to err is gain thou'lt find. GOETHE. SEA VOYAGE. WEARY days and nights long lay my vessel freighted, Favouring breezes waiting ; I with trusty comrades, To me patience and good heart carousing, Sat in harbour. And they doubly filled were with impatience : " Gladly wish we you the quickest passage, Gladly prosperous voyage : may abundance Greet thee in those distant worlds out yonder, And, again restored to our embraces, We shall love and prize thee." 38 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And one morning early there was tumult, And the shoutings of the sailors woke us ; All is bustle, all is life and movement, Sailing with the blessed breeze of morning. And the sails before the breezes blossom, And the sun invites with loving ardour ; Sails invite us, and the clouds high rolling ; All our friends upon the shore are shouting Cheers of hopefulness in joyous tumult. Luck presaging, like the morn's embarking, Like the early nights, sublime, star spangled. But now the God-sent breezes veering, drive him. Sideways from his predetermined passage, And he seems to bend in resignation, Striving gently might he overcome them, Aiming straight, tho' in a course distorted. But from out the dark grey-coloured distance, Soon the storm proclaims itself light creeping ; O'er the waves the feathered tribes are cowering, Makes the swelling hearts of men sink under; And it comes. Before its rigid fury Skilfully his sails the sailor furleth ; With the lab'ring sorrow-laden vessel, Sport wind and waves. WALLHA1DE. 39 And on yonder distant shore are standing Friends and lovers, filled with dire forebodings. Ah ! why is he not with us here staying ? Ah, the storm ! torn thus away from fortune Must the worthy fellow speed to ruin ? Alas ! he must ! Alas, ye gods, 'tis fated ! Still by the rudder stands he manfully ; With the ship are sporting winds and waters, Winds and waters sport not with his courage : Proudly in their cruel depths he gazes ; On his God, or foundering or land making, Rests he trustful. GOETHE. WALLHAIDE. UP yonder where stand the old walls still, In the rose of evening glowing, A castle once stood on the woody hill, Its ruins now only showing. In hall and tower The tempests roar ; Thro' doorway and window now flit all Forms spectral. 40 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. A Count lived there in the days of old, In combats full oft a victor ; In war and strife he was fierce and bold, At home there was no one stricter ; But his daughter so fair As the sun was there, More loving and kind could no maid be : Wallhaide. She sat and span with her maids all day, Lived a life retired and lonely, But a knight was her lover, gallant and gay, Plighted to her and her only. Up yonder steep, From neighb'ring keep, On his charger flew Rudolph to meet her And greet her. And ere the sun to his setting goes, In a lonesome spot he watches, And creeping light, as when zephyr blows, Wallhaid the postern unlatches. In silence prest To her lover's breast ; And his love he with yearning embraces Enlaces. VVALLHAIDE. 41 They dream that they had been wafted to heaven, Some sweet and short moments seeming ; He leaves her when falls the gloam of even, When the sun's last rays are gleaming. In farewell sweet Their lips oft meet, Then away with the tears in her eyes Off she flies. And as the summer they saw slip away, Sad yearning was o'er them stealing, To the Count sped Rudolph, and thus did say : " This brooks, Count, no longer concealing : I love Wallhaid, So give me the maid, That a fond, loving wife she may be Unto me." Said the Count, with a face as black as night, " What is this mad whim and sickly ? No wife of thine is my daughter, Sir Knight : Get it out of your head, and that quickly ; A rich baron woos ; My daughter goes A bride, spite of tears and sorrow, To-morrow." 42 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. This pierced thro' Rudolph's marrow and bone : The Danes in his fury attacking, He hunted thro' wood and forest lone, All tears in his eyes were lacking. An icy smart Passed thro' his heart, Till he seemed in grewsome pain sighing And dying. All at once thro' his body a secret fire burned, He felt as with new life glowing, Remorse and despair to light visions turned, And back came hope again flowing. "An I be free, Wallhaid true to me, From her father, who seeks to enslave her I'll save her." And ere the sun to his setting goes, In a lonesome spot he watches ; And creeping light, as when zephyr blows, Wallhaid the postern unlatches : In silence pressed To her lover's breast ; And his love he with yearning embraces Enlaces. WALLHAIDE. 43 Said Rudolph at last, " At the dead of night, When all in repose are lying, When Love is watched by no trait'rous sight, I'll come on a swift charger flying ; Then mount thee behind ; And off like the wind I'll ride with the rich costly prey, Far away." Then sank she all glowing upon his breast, With tender love phrases him wooing ; But soon they awoke from their bliss and zest : " How may I the gate be undoing ? For soon as night falls, Well guard they walls : How can I through sentries, watch keeping, Come creeping ? " But softly unless by false hope I'm betrayed, I may yet thro' the gates be creeping ; In sooth, 'tis too much for the heart of a maid,- Yet, with Love's safe guidance and keeping, - All built on love W T ill steadfast prove, Though one were in chains and in prison. Now listen ! 44 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " Long ago when our ancestor Wundebold Within this castle was living, His daughter grew up most fair to behold, Joy to the family giving. Her name Wallhaid ; Had also the maid In those days the good luck to discover A lover. " His bride she would be and with him would stay, Thro 7 life and in joy and in sorrow, But her hard, cruel father, he said her nay ; Then resolved her lover to follow, She boldly planned From her sire's hand At midnight her fetters to sever For ever. " 'Twas told to the Count by a trait'rous wight ; Their hopes with fell murder destroying, Her lover he slew as he rode by night, The swords of assassins employing. Still watched the maid ; Rushed her sire, with raised blade ; Her heart with his sword, mad with fury, Transfixed he. WALLHAIDE. 45 " Her ghost at rest in her grave cannot stay, But thro' the castle it roameth, And oft to the gate takes softly its way To see if her lover cometh, And waits forlorn Till morning's dawn, Expecting her lover to see, As I thee. " Thus long she wanders withouten rest, In garments all white and bloody ; She cometh to all a kind, quiet guest, Nor injureth anybody ; She takes her way straight To the outer gate, The guards, whilst way she is making, Fly quaking. " And, as from her love her life came to an end, Though dead, now to lovers inclines she ; Her garments all gory to-night she doth lend, The guards will retreat when they see me. A spirit's way May no one stay : Free path, thro' the sentinels quaking, Thus making. 46 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " Now wait at the gate ; when it strikes midnight Cometh Wallhaid silently wending : A veil stained with blood, in the wind-flutt'ring light, From her spectral features depending. Pressed by thy arm She will first feel warm, Then quickly to horse, ride away, Far away : " " O joy," Rudolph cried, interrupting her here, " Away all cares and misgiving, When once of the castle walls we are clear, In safety my love will be living. In the grey morn-shine I'll greet thee as mine. Adieu ! sweet rapture to taste, love, I haste, love ! " And still on their lips the kiss lingers and glows, Down the steep he bravely flieth, And a last adieu to his sweetheart throws From the vale that underlieth. " Dear Rudolph, th' art mine ! Dear Rudolph, I'm thine ! Not heaven or hell us can sever For ever. WALLHAIDE. 47 And as night's shadows fall over the vale Mounts the knight equipped, for flying ; In heaven are twinkling the stars so pale, Deep gloom o'er the earth is lying. With eager speed He spurs his steed, And comes where his love doth wait At the gate. And as from the tower it strikes midnight, Cometh Wallhaid silently wending, Her blood-stained veil in the breeze flutters light, From her spectral features depending ; The knight forth springs, Her behind him flings, Then rides with his trembling prey Far away. Onward they ride. Nought his love doth say ; His bride on his knees he resteth. " No more than a feather, love, dost thou weigh, Thy weight no wise me molesteth." " That may well be the case, Thin is my dress, Like the mist are the clothes that I wear, Thin as air." 48 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Her tender form the knight's arms enfold, Thro' his limbs runs a frosty rigour. " Oh, sweetheart, why art thou so icy and cold ? Doth love give no warmth or vigour ? " " Pressed by thy arm I shall grow warm, But my bed, love, was cold as the clay, Where I lay/' And onward thro' plain and forest they hold, The stars a pale glimmer throwing : " And art thou so outwardly frosty and cold ? With love is thy heart still glowing ? " " Dear Rudolph, th' art mine, Dear Rudolph, I'm thine, Nor heaven nor hell us can sever For ever." And restless ever still on they speed, And the hours of night are waning : " Ah ! now am I free, and at peace indeed, Love's guerdon here first obtaining. Thou'rt ever mine, I'm ever thine, Nor heaven nor hell us can sever For ever." WALLHAIDE. 49 Grey morn breaks slowly. Onwards they ride, Thro' woods and plains staying never ; But still more silent grew the bride, And colder and colder ever. The cock crows : she Reins hastily, And the knight she drags from his horse With all force. " Hush ! Oh how cold the morning airs blow, With the chill of the night-tempest vying ; Day dawns, and just now I heard the cock crow, In her bed thy bride, love, is lying ; Thy bride doth pine, Thou'rt mine, I'm thine, Not heaven or hell us can sever For ever." And the lips of the maid rain kisses that freeze On the trembling cheeks of her lover, Salutes from the dead and a charnel breeze Envelope and over him hover. He falls then and there His eyes wildly glare, And only below did the maiden her lover Recover. KORNER. 4 So GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. AN eagle's nestling spread his pinions For plunder ; Him struck the hunter's bolt, and brake His right wing's sinew strength in twain. Headlong he fell into a myrtle wood, Devoured his grief three livelong days, And writhed in pain Three weary, weary, weary nights. Heals him at length The omnipresent balsam Of Nature, healing all ; He creeps out of the coppice forth, And spreads his wings. Alas ! His pinions' strength cut thro', He scarce can raise himself From off the ground, In unworthy plunder craving, And rests, deep sorrowing, On the low stones by the brook. He looks up to the oak, To heaven aloft, And a tear dims his majestic eye ; Here too come sporting thro' the myrtle bushes, Fluttering, a pair of turtle-doves ; THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. They settle down, and billing wander Over golden sands and brook, And near together draw ; Their reddish eyes coquet around, Descry the inly sorrowing. Flits the dove in friendly curiousness To nearest bush, and takes With self-complacency a friendly glance. " Thou sorrowest," twittered he ; " Be of good courage, friend, For calm and peaceful happiness hast thou Not all things here ? Canst thou not glory in the golden spray That from the day's heat shelters thee ? Cans't thou not at evening sun-gleam, On the soft moss by the brooklet, Thy bosom 'gainst it pillow ? Thou roamest thro' this freshly dew of flowers, Pluckest from the overflow Qf the wood thickets thy Appropriate fare, and quenchest Thy light thirst at the silver rill. O friend, the only good Is in contentedness ; And true contentedness Hath more than is enough. 7 52 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " O wise one," said the eagle, and deeply he Absorbed, sinks deeper in himself, " O wisdom, thou speakest like a dove." GOETHE. PROMETHEUS. O'ER canopy thy heavens, O Zeus, With vapour clouds, And glut thy vengeance, like the youth Who thistles polled Upon the oaks and mountain tops ; Must yet my earth for me Permit to stand ? My houses, which thou hast not built, And mine own hearth, Whose glowing warmth Thou dost begrudge me ? I know nothing poorer Under the sun than you, ye deities, Ye nourish miserably On sacrifice And breath of vows Your great majesty, And would famish, were PROMETHEUS. 53 Not children and beggars Hope-nourished idiots. When I was a child, Nor yet knew I whence I came, Turn did I my wandering eyeballs Sunwards, as tho' above me were An ear to listen to my wailing, A heart, like mine, That the afflicted would compassionate. Who helped me Against the Titans' insolence ? Who rescued me from death, From slavery ? Hast thou not all thyself accomplished, Sacred glowing heart ? And glow'st thou young and fresh, Deceived, thanks to him, The slumberer up yonder ? I thee honour ? Wherefore ? Hast thou the torments appeased Of the o'erburdened one ? Hast thou the tears e'er assuaged Of the afflicted one ? And has not to manhood me welded Time the omnipotent, And fate ever-enduring, 54 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Lords of thee and me also ? Imagin'st thou perchance That I should despise existence, Take flight to deserts, Because not all / My dream-blossoms ripened ? Here sit I; mankind fashion After my image, A race that shall resemble me, To weep and to sorrow, To rejoice and to enjoy itself, And thee not to honour, As I! GOETHE. SPRING'S ORACLE. THOU prophetic birdie, thou ! Blossom herald, O cuckoo, Longings of a youthful pair In the sweetest time of year, Hear, O winged darling, do ! Is there hope ? O sing, cuckoo ! Sing cuckoo, sing cuckoo, Ever more, cuckoo, cuckoo ! SPRING'S ORACLE. 55 Hear'st thou ? An enamoured pair To the altar would draw near, And they are in their fair youth, Full of virtue, full of truth ; Is't not yet the happy day ? How long must they wait, Oh, say ? Hark ! cuckoo, hark ! cuckoo Silent now ? No more cuckoo ? But no fault lies at our door ; Patience yet for two years more, But when we united are Shall we hear papa, papa ? Know that thou would'st please us well, If thou many should'st foretell ; Once, cuckoo! twice, cuckoo! Go on ever, cuckoo, cuckoo, coo ! Have we kept a good account ? Nigh f half-dozen it doth mount, If we speak you fairly dear, Wilt thou promise many a year ? Frankly we confess to thee May it of the longest be : Coo, cuckoo, coo, cuckoo ! Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo. 56 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Life it is a good carouse When no reckoning it allows ; Now at last made one, we twain, Constant will our love remain ? Of its ending need we fear Should not brightly all appear? Coo, cuckoo ! coo, cuckoo ! Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo ! GOETHE. THE WANDERER'S NIGHT SONG. THOU that dost from heaven come down, All our joys and sorrows stillest, Him that doubly sad doth mourn, Doubly with refreshing fillest, Ah, with strivings I am spent ! What avails all joy and smart? Peace, sweet peace, Come ! O come into my heart ! GOETHE. HE A VENWARD. 5 7 HEAVENWARD. HEAVENWARD point the summits of the trees, Heavenward mounts the lark's song on the breeze, Heavenward every darling flower doth gaze, Heavenward wooeth them the sun's bright rays. Heavenward gleam still waters far and wide, So heaven itself is mirrored in their tide. The quiet mountain, 'gainst the sky so clear, Like a vast altar doth itself uprear. In all directions cross the town's full ways, But tower and turret ever heavenward gaze. Within the grave the dead so quiet lie, The cross thereon inviteth to the sky. O man, since heavenward beckoneth all around, Why sinks thy heart low grovelling on the ground ? Since all creation bids thee heavenward go, Why vainly seekest thou for peace below ? With earnest call the word doth bid thee soar, Yet here below thou dreamest evermore ! SEIDEL. 58 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POE7S. OPEN HOUSE. I TO-DAY would guests galore. See before my dishes ; Of meats there is a ready store, Birds, and beasts, and fishes. All the invitations out, Said they none would fail me : Hanschen, go and look about, Are they coming tell me ? Lovely children I expect, Next to nothing knowing, Not that 'tis a pleasant thing Kiss to friend bestowing. All the invitations out, Etc., etc. Wives too I expect to see, Who their lord and master, Howsoe'er he snarl and growl, Cling to him the faster. All the invitations out, Etc., etc. OPEN HOUSE. 59 Young men I've invited too, Who not high of mind are, Who are modest, too, withal, Tho' their fobs well lined are. Specially invited these, Etc., etc. Husbands bade I with respect, Whose look ne'er askance is, And when pretty girls pass by, Cast no wandering glances. All the invitations out, Etc., etc. Poets also did I bid, To enhance our pleasures, Who new songs would rather hear Than e'en their own measures. All the invitations out, Etc.. etc. Yet do I see no one come, None as tho' they posted, Soup is hot, and boiling o'er, Mutton too much roasted. All the invitations out, Etc., etc. 60 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Hanschen, run, and tarry not ! Bid me other guests in ; Let each come just as he is, Ne'er mind what he's dressed in. Now o'er all the town 'tis known, And joyfully accepted ; Hanschen, ope the gates, there's far More than we expected. GOETHE. WITH a master all smoothly goes Who what he bids, himself well knows. GOETHE. THE WANDERER BY THE SAWMILL. DOWN yonder by the sawmill I sat in sweet repose : I watched the mill-wheel playing, The water as it rose. I watched the shining saw-blade ; How like a dream to me It seemed, as it was cutting Long furrows in a tree. LOVES ENDURANCE. 61 The pine seemed as tho' living ; In mournful melody, Thro' all its fibres thrilling, It sang these words to me. " Thou com'st here in due season, O wanderer, thou art That one for whom these woundings Cut deep into my heart. " Thou'rt he for whom, when after Short wanderings thou hast past, This wood shall in earth's bosom Be shrine for thee at last." Four planks, I saw them falling, My heart it felt full sore, A word I fain would murmur, The mill-wheel went no more. T. KERNER. LOVE'S ENDURANCE. Oh, Love as long as thou canst love ! Long as thou may'st, thy love, oh, keep ; The hour will come, the hour will come, When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep. 62 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And let thy heart responsive glow, Love cherish, make thy heart-love's seat, Whilst 'gainst thine own in warmth and love Another's heart doth fondly beat. To him who gives his heart to thee, Oh, with thy love him richly dower, O make him joyous every day, And grieve him not one single hour. And keep strict guard upon thy tongue : An angry word is quickly said. " O God, 'twas not in anger meant ! "- The other goes, and tears are shed. Oh, love as long as thou canst love, Long as thou mayst, thy love, oh, keep ; The hour will come, the hour will come, When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep. There at the grave thou kneelest down, And shad'st thine eyes that weep so sore, Beneath the long dark churchyard grass, That other one thou seest' no more. " Look down upon me here," thou sayst; " Here at thy grave with weeping spent, Forgive me for the pain I gave, O God, 'twas not in anger meant ! " THE LORDLING AND THE MAID. 63 He sees thee, hears thee not, nor comes, That thou glad welcome may'st bestow, The lips that kissed thee oft no more Say. " I forgave thee long ago." He did, he pardoned thee long since, Yet many a scalding tear there fell For thee and for thy angry word ; But peace ! He rests, and all is well. Oh, love as long as thou canst love, Long as thou mayst, thy love, oh, keep, The hour will come, the hour will come, When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep. FREILIGRATH. THE LORDLING AND THE MAID OF THE MILL. LORDLING. WHITHER away, Fair lassie ? say, What is your name ? 64 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. MAID. My name is Liz. LORDLING. Whither then away With the rake there in your hand ? MAID. To my father's land, To a mead of his. LORDLING. Why lonely, say ? MAID. To make his hay, That's the meaning of my rake. In the garden there below 'Gin the pears to mellow, And a branch I mean to break. LORDLING. Is there no quiet arbour there ? MAID. Aye sure, a pair. THE LORDLING AND THE MAID. 65 LORDLING. I'll follow soon ; In the heat of noon We'll hide us there, In a cozy green nest. MAID. What tales there would be ! LORDLING. In my arms there is rest. MAID. Not for me ! Who kisses the maid of the mill so fair, Is betrayed then and there : Your fine black cloth I am right loath To colour whitely : Like with like is the safest plan, By that I'll live and die ; I give my love to the miller's man, There's nought to lose thereby. GOETHE. 5 66 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. MIGNON. KNOW'ST thou the land where the citron trees blow, Where midst the dark verdure gold oranges glow, Where gently the breezes from blue heaven play, Where stands the still myrtle and tall-growing bay, Know'st thou that land ? there, there, with thee, O my beloved one ! I fain would flee. Know'st thou the house with its pillar-propt walls, Its dazzling saloons and its glittering halls ? Stands gazing at me the long marble array, u Child ! what has come over thee ? " seem they to say ; Know'st thou the house ? there, there, with thee, O my protector ! there I fain would flee. Know'st thou the mountain, it's cloud-piercing road, Where thro' the thick mists toils the mule with its load, Where dwells in dark caverns the dragon's old brood, Where rent are the rocks, foameth o'er them the flood ; Know'st thou the mountain ? there with thee My path doth lie ; there, father, let us ^flee. GOETHE. EFFECT AT A DISTANCE. 67 LIKE TO LIKE.- A LITTLE blue-bell From its earth-tomb Early peept forth Jn loveliest bloom A little bee sipped, Passing that way, Made for each other Surely are they. GOETHE. EFFECT AT A DISTANCE. THE Queen she stands in her castle's proud hall, Where all brightly the tapers flame ; " Now hie thee, sir page " (he came at her call), " And fetch me my purse for the game ; It lies close at hand On the marble stand." To the palace end quickly away Sped the page without further delay. 68 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. By chance, near the Queen her sherbet did sip A lady, the fairest of all ; In shivers the cup fell dashed from her lip, Ah me, what a terrible fall ! Such carelessness ! drest In her gala vest ! Sped the lady without more delay To the palace end quickly away. The page as back on his errand he flew, In trouble the fair lady met ; Both lady and page, tho' none of them knew, Their hearts on each other had set. O joy and delight ! O fortunate plight ! How they fell upon each other's breast ! How they kissed and embraced and caressed ! Now severed at last and parted are they ; To her room the fair lady ran, Back to the Queen sped the page on his way, Past many a dagger and fan. His vest by the Queen All spotted was seen ; From her eyes there was nothing to hide, With the famed Queen of Sheba she vied. THE CASTLE ON THE HILL. 69 The palace duenna she called aside : " You said in our late wordy war, And arguments stout and stiff you applied, That spirit acts not from afar ; In presence alone Its traces are shown, But nothing can work from afar, No, not even a heavenly star. " Now look ! But just now where standing we are, Was scattered a sweet beverage, And at the same instant, tho' distant and far, It spotted the vest of the page. Go, get newly clad, My heart is made glad ; My argument thus for upholding I'll pay, and so save you a scolding." GOETHE. THE CASTLE ON THE HILL. THERE stands an ancient castle Up yonder on the height ; Of yore behind its posterns Watched many a horse and knight. 70 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. But burned are the gates and posterns, And over all is it so still, And thro' the ruinous masonry I scramble about at my will Beneath here lay a cellar, Of costliest wine the store ; There the maid with foaming tankards Jocundly climbs no more. The guests in the hall she places No more the beakers before, She fills at holy festival For priest the chalice no more. She hands to the lusty varlet No longer his cup at the door, And receives for the fugitive guerdon A fugitive thanks no more. For all the beams and the rafters Have ages ago been burned, And corridors, stairs and chapel To ruin and rubbish turned. Yet as with zither and bottle I saw on a brightsome day Up the steep sides of the mountain My sweetheart picking her way, THE CASTLE ON THE HILL. 71 Forth from the desolate stillness Did a feeling of joy outpour, And all again went merrily As it did in days of yore. As tho' for the stately visitors Prankt out were the chambers fine, As tho' a young couple stept forth Out of that rollicking time. And the worthy priest in the chapel To them did question address ; " Do ye willingly take each other ? " And we laughingly answered " Yes." And the deeply uttered jubilee That came from the heart's profound, Did the ringing voice of echo, Instead of the throng, resound. And as towards the close of even All nature sank down to rest, The glowing rays of the sunset Gleamed bright on the mountain crest, And man and serving maid glitter Like nobles of high degree, For the cup she leisurely proffers, A leisurely thanks pays he. GOETHE. 72 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. PRESENCE. EVERYTHING speaks of thee ! Shines the all-glorious sun, Soon thou wilt follow, I hope. Into the garden dost walk, Rose of the roses art thou, Lily of lilies withal. When in the dance thou dost move, Then circle all constellations With thee and round thee about. Night and oh would it were night ! Now thou outshinest the moon's Lovely and ravishing light. Charming alluring art thou : Moon, constellations, and flowers Render thee homage, O sun ! Sun, be thou also to me Formative power of bright days, Life everlasting thy gift ! GOETHE. MA Y SONG. 73 MAY SONG. SHINETH so cheerily, Nature on me, Sun gleameth brightly, Flowers laugh with glee. Bursts forth the blossom From every spray, And thousand voices In coppice play. And joy and gladness From every breast ! O earth ! O sunlight ! O bliss ! O zest ! O love ! O true love ! So golden bright, Like morning vapours On yonder height ! Thou blessest richly The reeking ground ; And blossom perfume Sheddest around. 74 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. O maiden, maiden ! How I love thee ! How bright thine eyes beam ! How thou lov'st me ! As lark the sun and sky Loves, while he soars, And dews of heaven The morning flowers, . So do I love thee, My blood all aglow, Thou to whom strength, joy, And youth I owe, Zest for new dances, Of songs the giver, How thou dost love me ! Blest be thou ever ! GOETKE. RECOVERY. MY sweetheart was to me untrue : Henceforth, all joy and pleasure scorning, I plunged into the stream one morning : The waters by me rushing flew. RECOVERY. ' 75 There stood I doubting, dumb, spell-bound ; My head felt as I had been drinking ; Beneath the stream I fast was sinking, The world seemed spinning round and round. Then suddenly a voice I hear, I turned my back just right against it ; A voice 'twas to make one demented, " The stream is deep : beware ! beware ! " A something then thrilled thro' my blood. I look : a fair maid there I see ; I asked her name, she answered, " Kattie ! " O lovely Kattie ! thou art good. From death thou hast delivered me. To thee I owe that I am living, But that to me is little giving, Unless thou'lt that life's blessing be. And then I tell my woeful tale, She shuts her loving eyes, and pities ; I kiss her, she returns my kisses, And thoughts of death no more assail. 76 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. SEMBLANCE OF DEATH. WEEP, maiden! here, by Love's grave, weep ! who here From a mere nothing a Perhaps was slain. But is he truly dead ? To that I cannot swear ; A nothing a Perhaps oft wakens him again. GOETHE. FIRST LOSS. LOVELY days ! who can recall them, Those sweet days of first-born love ? Ah ! who brings back one hour only Of that time so golden bright ? O'er my wounds I brood me lonely, And with aye renewed complaining I bewail the lost delight. Lovely days ! who can recall them ? That past time so gay and bright ! GOETHE. PROSPEROUS VOYAGE. THE mists part asunder, The heavens are clearer, WELCOME AND DEPARTURE. 77 And ^Eolus looseth His clamorous band. Low murmurs the gale, The sailors bestir them, Quick, quick, spread the sail ! The waves cleave asunder, . The distance comes nearer, . Hurrah for the land ! GOETHE. WELCOME AND DEPARTURE. How beat my heart ! to horse ! away ! 'Twas done ere yet the thought took flight ; The earth in evening cradled lay, And o'er the mountain hung the night. The oak in misty vesture stood, And towered gigantic to the skies, While darkness, brooding o'er the wood, Looked forth with hundred ebon eyes. The moon, her bank of clouds behind, Did sadly through the mist appear ; On lightsome wings careered the wind, And murmured weirdly in my ear. 78 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. t's thousand monsters sprung to life, Yet fresh and free my spirits flowed, With what a fire my veins were rife ! And how my heart with ardour glowed ! I saw thee, and a blissful rest Flowed from thy sweet regards to mine, My heart beat to thy side close pressed, And every breath I drew was thine. Thy lovely features roseate blushed, Suffused with a vernal kiss, With tenderness for me they flushed ; I hoped not, nor deserved such bliss. But ah ! when shone the morning light, Oh how it wrung my heart to go ! Oh in thy kisses what delight, And in thine eyes what grief and woe ! I went : thou stoodst with downcast sight, Nor couldst thy tear-dewed eyes remove ; In being loved, O what delight ! And, O ye gods, what bliss to love ! GOETHE. WITH A PAINTED GIRDLE. 79 WITH A PAINTED GIRDLE. LITTLE leaves and little flowers Strew for me with lightsome hand Spring's benign and youthful powers, Sporting on a fairy band. .Take it on thy pinions, Zephyr, Twine it round my darling's dress, See her there, before the mirror, Deckt in all her sprightliness. Girt with roses see the darling, Fair herself as rose to see : Just a glimpse, my life, my darling ! Well rewarded shall I be. Feel what this fond heart discovers, Freely hither reach thy hand, And this band, that joins us lovers, Let it be no frail Rose-band. GOETHE. 8o GLEANINGS FROM 7 HE GERMAN POETS. NECTAR DROPS. WHEN Minerva to that darling Boy Prometheus, as a favour, A full brimming nectar goblet Did to earth convey from heaven, To make happy his creation, And of kindly arts the impulse To infuse into their bosoms, Hasted she with winged footsteps, Lest dread Jupiter should see her, And the golden goblet tottered, And there out a few drops trickled, Down upon the greensward falling. Eagerly the bees 'gan settle Thereupon, and busy sucked it : Came the butterfly with ardour, And a tiny drop did pilfer ; Even the misshapen spider, Creeping thither, mighty draughts took. Well for them that they so tasted, They and other kindly creatures ! For with mankind they divided Art, the fairest of all blessings. GOETHE. THE LIMITS OF HUMANITY. 81 THE LIMITS OF HUMANITY. WHEN the ancient-dayed, Heavenly Father With temperate hand Forth from the rolling clouds His hallowed lightnings Scatters on earth, I kiss the extremest Hem of His garments, Childlike awe Deep in my breast. For with the deities May himself measure No son of man. Riseth he upwards And toucheth The stars with his head, No resting-place find His insecure steps, And with him sport them Wind and waves. Stands he with fast-fixed, Firmly-knit muscles 82 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. On the sure-grounded, Aye during earth, He cannot attain Either with oak Or with vine To make himself equal. Why is this difference Between gods and men ? That so many billows In perpetual stream Roll before them, Heaved high on the waves, Devoured by the waves, We perish and sink. By a small circle Our life is bounded, And many generations Link themselves ever On the endless chain Of existence. GOETHE. TURN to good account thy day ; Wilt aught lay hold on ? O not far away. GOETHE. NEARNESS OF THE BELOVED. 83 NEARNESS OF THE BELOVED. I THINK of thee when the sun's bright shimmer From Ocean gleams, I think of thee when the moon's pale glimmer Plays on the streams. I think of thee when from the distant ridge Rise clouds of dust, When the night wanderer on the narrow bridge Steps with mistrust. I hear thee yonder where with sullen sound The waters rise, And oft I listen when in wood profound All quiet lies. I'm at thy side ; be thou however far, Still art thou near ; The sun sinks, soon peeps forth each little star, Oh wert thou here ! GOETHE, 84 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT. ON the mountain summit yonder A thousand times I stand, And on my sheep-crook leaning, I gaze down on the land. Then the pasturing flocks I follow, By my dog well-guarded are they, And I find myself in the valley : How it happened I cannot say. All full of the loveliest flowers Extend the meadows below ; I pluck them, and know not for why, Or on whom them to bestow. From the rain, and storm, and tempest, Take shelter beneath a tree ; Your door there remains unopened, But all seems a dream to me. See ! a rainbow there is hanging, Over yon house it stands, But she, alas ! is departed Far off into distant lands. THE WOOD ROSE. 85 To distant lands and further, Perhaps, far over the sea ; Hie onwards, ye sheep, for the shepherd A sorrowful wight is he ! GOETHE. THE WOOD ROSE. A BOY who saw a rose that grew, Wild rose of the forest, Young and fresh with morning dew, Ran to get a nearer view, Gazed with rapture on it ; " Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, Wild rose of the forest ! " I'll gather thee," the boy he cried, "Wild rose of the forest." "I'll prick thee, youth," the rose replied, " That it shall thee ill betide," " Yet shall I not rue it," " Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, " " Wild rose of the forest ! " By the eager boy the rose was snatched, Wild rose of the forest ; 86 CLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Rosebud struggled long and scratched, Spite of cries 'twas overmatched, Sore now must it rue it. Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, Wild rose of the forest ! GOETHE. I COULD no greater sorrow own Than live in Paradise alone. GOETHE. THE SKIN OF A DEAD FOX IS VALUABLE. WE young folk one afternoon, In the cool were staying, Cupid came, and " Fox is dead," Would with us be playing. Each of my companions sat By his sweetheart resting ; Cupid blew the taper out, " Here 'tis/' said he, jesting. And the light as it grew dim Soon was made a rover, LOVING REMINISCENCE. 87 Each one thrust it hastily In the hand of other. Jesting, mocking, reached it me, Dorelis so sprightly, Scarcely by my finger touched, Lo ! it burned up brightly. Singed my face, and singed my eyes v Set my heart a-glowing, O'er my head the ruddy flames Met together flowing. Tried to quench it, dashed it down ; Vain was my endeavour, Far from dying was " The Fox," Full of life as ever. GOETHE. LOVING REMINISCENCE. To spoil our love of bow and ribbon, Though half allowed, and half forbidden, 'Tis much to you, I will allow it, Nor envy your simplicity. A veil, a kerchief, girdle, rings, Are, certes, no such trifling things ; But they are not enough for me. 88 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Part of herself, a portion living, Tho' lightly 'gainst it she had striven, My dearest love to me had given. And all that splendour's nought, I ween I laugh at all such trumpery ware, To me she gave her lovely hair, The glory of her face and mien. Were I to lose thee now, true-hearted, We should not be entirely parted : To gaze on, fondle, and caress ye, These reliques still remain of thee. This tress, my fate, are like in this, Once toyed we round her in sweet bliss, Now parted from her, both are we. We hung about her, closely pressing,' Her cheeks so round and fair caressing ; By a sweet yearning lured, we glided Upon her bosom full and white. From jealous fears, thou rival, free, Thou fairest spoil, sweet gift to me, Of bliss remind me and delight ! GOETHE. TO MIGNON. 89 REMINISCENCE. WHEN the vine again is blowing, Stirreth then the wine in tun, When again the rose is glowing, How I feel I do not know. Tears adown my cheeks are running : What I do, or leave undone, Only undefined longing Feel I thro' my bosom glow. With myself at length I reason, When I think and muse thereon, Twas in such fair days and season Doris once for me did glow. GOETHE. TO MIGNON. OVER vale and stream afar, Driveth Phoebus' golden car. Ah ! he stirreth in his flight Of thee and me the smart Deep in our heart, Ever with the morning light ! 90 GLEANINGS FRO If THE GERMAN POETS. Scarce can now the night avail, For e'en dreams themselves assail. Now, in sad and mournful guise I feel of bitter smart, Deep in my heart, Secret plastic force arise. How many a fair, past year, I see the ships beneath appear ! Safe their haven reach will they : But ah ! this constant smart, Fast in my heart, Floats not in the stream away ! In gay garments must I dress, Ta'en are they from out the press, For to-day a feast day is : None guesses that from smarts My heart of hearts Sorely torn and mangled is. Secret aye must flow the tear, Smiling yet can I appear, Healthy-hued withal, and red ! If deadly were the smart To my poor heart, Ah ! long ago had I been dead. GOETHE. THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 91 SPIRIT GREETING. UPON a tower antique and high Stood ghost of hero brave, Who as the ship went sailing by This " God-speed " to her gave. " See ! these my sinews stark were once, This heart beat fast and wild, Of knightly marrow full these bones, Brimful this goblet filled. " Half of* my life in storm was passed, Half wasted was in ease, Speed, human cargo, far and fast, On, on, before the breeze ! " GOETHE. THE TREASURE-SEEKER. POOR in purse and sick at heart, Dragged I on life's weary course ; Poverty's the greatest curse, Riches are the chiefest good. So to ease my pain and smart, Treasure-seeking forth I hied ; " Thou shalt have my soul," I cried, And I signed it with my blood. 92 GLEANINGS FROM 7^HE GERMAN POETS. Circle within circle drew, Magic fires I kindled then, Herbs I strewed and bones of men ; Naught was wanting to the rite. Next, with ceremonial due, For the treasure dug around, In the designated ground : Black and stormy was the night. Then a distant light I saw, And it shone just like a star, From a realm remote and far. Midnight sounded o'er the land, And my soul was filled with awe ; On a sudden gleamed a light From a vessel full and bright, Which a fair youth held in hand. Beaming bright I saw his eyes 'Neath a flowing garland dight, By the goblet's heavenly light. Entered he within the zone, Bade me drink in friendly guise ; And I thought, " This beauteous youth, With his splendid gifts, in sooth, Cannot be the Evil One. , THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. 93 " Drain life's courage pure and clear, Then its lessons thou wilt learn, Nor with anxious spells return E'er again unto this place. Seek not vainly delving here, Daily labour, nightly guests, Weeks of pain and joyous feasts, Be thy spells in future days." GOETHE. ONE of the mightiest actions is that When one fries himself in his own fat. GOETHE. THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. CORINTHWARDS, his home at Athens quitting, Came a youth who there was yet unknown, Counting on a burgher's friendly greeting : Both the fathers were in friendship one ; Bride and bridegroom they Had, now long the day, 'Trothed their little daughter and their son. But will they be kindly welcome giving ? Buys he not their favour dear, indeed ? 94 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. He and all his house as heathen living, They baptized into the Christian creed. Faith that's strange and new, Love, however true, Roots up often like a noxious weed. O'er the house there brooded utter stillness ; Save the mother, all had sought their bed ; She greets the guest with ready willingness, To the gala-chamber he is led : Ere the wish's exprest, See ! the feast is drest, And so cared for, her good-night is said. Yet awakened not desire of feeding At the dainty banquet spread before, From fatigue, of bread and wine unheeding, Down he laid him in the clothes he wore, With sound sleep opprest, Lo ! a seldom guest Softly enters at the chamber door. By the gleaming lamp, in veil and vesture Snowy white, within her chamber stand, See ! a maid of modest mien and gesture, Round her brows a black and golden band : At his sudden sight THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. 95 Raised she in affright And astonishment a wan, white hand. " Am I," cried she, " here grown such a stranger, That when guests arrive I hear no fame ? " So fast closed within my narrow chamber That I stand, here, overwhelmed with shame ? With fatigue opprest, On thy couch still rest, I will go as quickly as I came." " Stay, fair maiden," cried the youth, addressing Her, and rising with an impulse wild, " Here is Bacchus, here is Ceres' blessing, And thou bring'st love with thee, darling child ; Pale thou art, I see ; Come and taste with me, Come and taste how good the gods are, child." " Come not near me, come not near, young lover ; Joy and I have parted long before, My last step is taken, all is over, Thro' a mother's sick caprice, who swore (And her oath made good) Youth and nature should Be to heaven destined evermore. 96 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " From the still and empty house, away they Thrust old deities a motley herd ; To one invisible in heaven pray they, And a Saviour's on the cross preferred: Neither lamb nor steer Fall now victims here, But a human sacrifice unheard.' 7 And now all her words well ponders o'er he, And their hidden meaning would explore. " Is it true that here I see before me, Standing here, the bride whom I adore ? Plight we here our troth, For our fathers' oath Doth a blessing on our union pour. " " Thou dear soul, thy wish is unavailing, They my younger sister destine thee : Oh, when in the silent cell I'm wailing, Then, in her embraces, think on me Whose sole thoughts are thine, Who in love doth pine, 'Neath the ground soon hidden will she be ! " " By these flames I swear that shall be never ; See how gracious Hymen is to us ! Naught from me and bliss shall thee now sever ; Thou shalt with me to my father's house. THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. 97 Sweetheart, stay with me, Here at once will we To the god of marriage make carouse. They the tokens of betrothal proffer ; Gave she him a golden ring to wear, Of a goblet then he made her offer, Wrought in silver, and beyond compare. " This I will not have, But one thing I crave, Give me now, I pray, a lock of hair." Hark ! away the dull, ghost hours are slipping, And now first she seems at peace to be, As her pallid lips the while were sipping At the blood-red, dark wine greedily ; But of wheaten bread, Spite of all he said, Not the smallest morsel eateth she. Then the goblet to the youth she handed, And as lustily thereout he drank, At the stilly feast her love demanded. Ah, poor heart, how lovesick grown and rank ! Yet she said him nay, Pray hard as he may, Till loud wailing on the couch he sank. 7 98 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Then she comes, herself beside him places, " Ah ! how grieved am I at thy sad plight ! When thou foldest me in thy embraces, At my touch thou'lt shudder in affright : White as snow is she, Cold as ice to thee, Is the bride thou waitest for to-night." In his arms he seized her closely straining, With the strength that love and youth bestow ; "Love's warmth, here, thou mayst have hope of gaining, Cam'st thou even from the grave below, Mingled breath and kiss, Overflow of bliss, Glow'st thou not as thou dost feel me glow ? " In love welded are they faster, harder ; Tears commingle with their bliss and zest, Greedy draws she in his sweet mouth's ardour, Each to each self-conscious closer prest, Till his love's fierce flood Warms her sluggish blood, Yet no heart is beating in her breast. On domestic cares, meanwhile, the mother Late was passing down the corridor, At the door she listens to discover What such accents meant, ne'er heard before ; THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. 99 Rapturous love moans, Bride and bridegroom's tones, And mad stammerings that from bliss outpour. At the door she stands, bereft of motion, Hoping that she may have heard amiss ;' Hears deep vows of love, and love's devotion, Coaxing words and plaints of short-lived bliss ; " Hark ! the cock's shrill crow ! Darling, I must go." " Thou'lt come back again?" then kiss on kiss. Then a loose rein to her anger giving, Hastily she thrust aside the bar; " Have I in my house such servants living, Who at any stranger's bidding are ? " Entering hastily, By the lamplight she Sees, great heaven ! sees her daughter there. In his first astonishment, her lover Her gauze veil around the maiden throws, With the coverlet her fain would cover, But she winds from underneath the clothes ; With a spirit's might Rises she upright, Long and slowly from the couch arose. ioo GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " Mother," cried she, in voice hollow sounding, " Do you so begrudge the bliss I take, That you drive me from this warm surrounding ? Must I only to despair awake ? Art thou not content That thou hast me sent In the grave an early bed to make ? " From my narrow cell, fast barred and hollow, Driveth me my own peculiar doom ; There your droning priests' chaunts do not follow, Nor avail their blessings in the tomb ; Salt and water fail O'er youth to prevail, Love grows cool not even in earth's womb. " This dear youth was erst to me bespoken When to Venus there did temples stand ; Mother, hast thou then thy promise broken, For a faith that 's stranger in the land ? But no god allows E'en a mother's vows, Should she dare withhold her daughter's hand. "From my grave with a fierce longing taken, Have I come to seek the missing good, Loving still this fair, lorn man, forsaken, And to drain his very heart's life blood. THOU ART EVERYWHERE. Sealed his fate, below He must surely go ; Youth succumbs beneath fierce passion's flood. " Beauteous youth, no longer may'st thou tarry, In this place thou'lt pine away, for see, Mine the ring that thee and me doth marry, And thy hair I take away with me ! Mark it, 'twill be grey By to-morrow's day, And brown only yonder will it be. " Mother, list, I pray, to what I'm saying : Let a funeral pile constructed be, Then my narrow chamber open laying, Bring my love in flames to rest with me; When sparks upwards go, When the ashes glow, To the old gods haste we joyously." GOETHE. THOU ART EVERYWHERE. WHEN the ruddy evening fadeth, Moon and stars their courses run ; And when moon and stars are paling, Steps through golden gate the sun. 102 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. In the heaven's roseate glory, In the splendour of the sun, In the moonbeam, in the starlight, I can see thy face alone. Others often pass before me, But mine eyes I do not raise ; I can feel thee in the distance, Ere upon thy form I gaze. But when thou art close beside me, In a mist thy form appears, For, from joy, and pain, and tremor, Fill mine eyes with sudden tears. How can I forget thee ever, Think on thee without regret ? Thou art ever close beside me, And for ever distant yet. SCHULTZE. LORE LEI. I KNOW not what it presages That I am sad to-day, A legend of by-gone ages Will not from my thoughts away. LORE LEI. 103 The air is cool and it darkles, And peacefully flows the Rhine, The peak of the mountain sparkles In the evening's ruddy shine. The fairest of maidens sitteth There, wondrous to behold, Her golden adornments glitter, She combs her hair of gold, With a golden comb she combs it ; A sad song singeth she, That is fraught with a potent magic And a wondrous melody. With a wild, wild sorrow it seizes The man in the little skiff : To the mountain upward he gazes, He looks not down at the cliff. I fear me, the boat and the boatman The waves closed over anon ; And that is what with her singing The Lore Lei hath done. HEINE. 104 GLEANINGS PROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE LITTLE COT. I'M owner of a little cot That stands upon a verdant plot ; A rivulet hard by doth wind, Tho' small, none clearer you will find. Close by the cot there stands a tree, Through it the cot you scarcely see, And those who dwell within it find A shelter 'gainst the storm and wind. Upon this tree the nightingale So sweetly pours her plaintive tale That every one who goes that way Is fain to listen to her lay. Thou darling with the flaxen hair, Who long hast been my joy and care ! I go : the winds blow rough and wild, Wilt share my cot with me, fair child ? GLEIM. TO LEUCOJV. 105 TO LEUCON. GATHER roses whilst they blow, To-morrow's not to-day ; Let not present moments go, Time flies fast away. Quaff away, and kiss, for see, The best time is to-day ; Where to-morrow wilt thou be ? Time flies fast away. Ah ! how late we oft repent A goodly deed's delay ! Let your life be jocund spent : Time flies fast away. GLEIM. WOULD'ST thou nothing useless buy, Be sure the fairs you go not nigh. GOETHE. io6 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE BEE AND THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER. A LITTLE honey bee once flew Busy to and fro, and drew Sweetness out of all the flowers. " Little bee," said a maiden fair, Who was busy there at work, " In them poisons often lurk, And thou suck'st from all the flowers. "- " That is true, O maiden fair, But I leave the poison there." GLEIM. AWAKE, MY HEART, AND SING. WAKE, my heart, and to Him sing Who created everything, Of all good the Giver kind, True Protector of mankind. Thou dost Godlike mercy shed Over my defenceless head ; Sleep, thou sayest, without fear, Thou shalt see the sun appear ! AWAKE, MY HEART, AND SING. 107 Thy promise, Lord, is true and right ; I can still behold the light ; 7 Tis from Thee that once again I to joys of life attain. Mount, O thanks, unto His throne ; To the Father, to the Son, To the Holy Ghost be honour, Adoration, praise, and honour ! Hear my prayers, my praises hear ; In man's heart Thou seest clear. May it please Thee, Lord of all, What my stammering lips let fall ! Oh, would'st Thou bring to a full end Thy work in me, and, Father, send Down from heaven one who may Bear me in his hands to-day ! Oh, would'st Thou counsel but afford In every act of mine, O Lord ! Lead me to the best alway, Make me holier day by day ; With benedictions me attend, Wheresoe'er my steps I bend ; On my journeying may Thy word Nourishment to me afford ! KLOPSTOCK. io8 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. WHO serves the public is a sorry beast : He frets himself; no one thanks him the least. GOETHE. THE THREE REALMS OF NATURE. THIS thought, whilst quaffing, came to me, Why nature's realms should threefold be ? Mankind and beasts to love are given, And drink, as each by instinct driven ; The dolphin, eagle, hound, and flea, To love and drink all four agree ; So all that love and quench their thirst, Must have a place in realm the first. To plants the second realm's assigned, In gifts how far the first behind ! They love not, yet to drink are fain, When clouds descend in trickling rain. So drink the clover and the pine, The prickly aloe and the vine : Thus, all that drink, but love not, find The second realm to them assigned. LENORE. 109 The third realm is the realm of stone ; There diamond and sand are one. There's no stone love or thirst that knows, So without love or drink it grows. Thus all that love not, drink not, find The third realm is to them assigned, For without love and wine, now own, What would'st thou be, O man ? a stone ! LESSING. LENORE. LENORE arose at ruddy morn, From troubled dreams awaking. " Art dead, dear William, or forsworn ? Why such long stay art making ? " He'd gone with Frederick's armed might To take a part in Prague's fierce fight, And had not sent to say, If he'd escaped that day. The monarch and the proud Empress, With their long feud disgusted, Their enmity now growing less, A peace at last adjusted. i io GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And either host hurrahed and sang, With kettle-drum, and clash and clang, And decked with green boughs gay, Marched on their homeward way. And everywhere, and everywhere, In street, on bridge, abounding, Both old and young, they all appear, The shouting host surrounding. " Thank God ! " the wives and children cried, And " Welcome ! " many a happy bride. But ah ! for poor Lenore No kiss or greeting more. Then up and down the ranks she flew, The names of all there searching, But none of them could give a clue, As onward went they marching. When all had passed, in sheer despair Her raven locks she 'gan to tear, And threw herself to ground, In woe and grief profound. Her mother hastened to her side : " In mercy, God, behold her ! What, darling child, may this betide ? "- Then in her arms to fold her. LENORE. " O mother, mother ! dead is he ! What now is all the world to me ? Will God no mercy show ? O woe is me, O woe ! " " O help ! God ! help, compassion show ! Child, say a paternoster ; God doeth all things well, we know : O God, have mercy on her ! J? " O mother, vain is all you say, God is not merciful to-day ; Of what avail to pray ? All, all is ta'en away ! " " Help, God ! Who God the Father know, Know He deserts them never ; His sacraments have power thy woe To mitigate for ever." " O mother, griefs within me rage No sacraments can e'er assuage ; To bring to life again No sacraments attain." " Hear, child ! What if the faithless youth, In Hungary detained, Has broke for thee his plighted troth, In fetters new enchained ? 112 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Grieve not, then, if his heart be gone, 'Twill bring to him no benison ; When soul and body part, His crime will prick his heart ! " " O mother, mother ! all is vain ; He's lost to me for ever. Death is my only hope, 'twere gain Had I existed never ! Go out, go out for ever, light ! Die, die away in woe and night ! Will God no mercy show ? O woe is me, O woe ! " " Help, God ! Upon this wretched child Be not Thy vengeance wreaking ! Remember not her words so wild, She knows not what she's speaking. Think, child, of earthly sorrows less, And more of God and holiness ; Then thy poor soul to save, The Bridegroom thou wilt have." " O mother ! what is holiness ? And what is hell, O mother ? With him, with him is holiness, And hell without him, mother ! LENORE. 113 Go out, go out for ever, light ! Die, die away in woe and night ! Without him here on earth, Or there, joy has no worth ! " Within her brain, thro' every sense There raged such desperation, She railed against God's providence In bitter execration. She wrung her hands and beat her breast Until the sun sank in the west, Until o'er Heaven's arch The golden stars 'gan march. But hark ! without, trot, trot, trot heard, As of a charger's gallop ; The clank as of a knight that spurred, And at the postern drew up. And hark ! and hark ! that portal's ring, Then soft and gentle, ting, ting, ting, There came in at the gate These sounds articulate. " What ho ! what ho ! throw wide the door ; Art waking, love, or sleeping ? Feel'st thou to me as heretofore ? Art laughing, or art weeping ? " ii4 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " What, William ! you, at night so late ! So long to weep, so long to wait ; My woe how hard to bear ! How cam'st thou riding here ? "- " We saddle only at midnight, From far Bohemia making, 'Twas late ere I began my flight, So thee behind me taking. "- " O William, quick, quick, come to me ! The wind sighs thro' the hawthorn tree, Come, warm thee, dearest, best ; In my embraces rest." " Oh let it sigh the hawthorn round, Child, let the wind keep sighing ; My black steed neighs and paws the ground : Far hence we must be flying. Come, truss thy dress, mount, mount, I say, Behind me on my horse : away ! A hundred miles we ride, Ere thou canst be my bride ! " " Must we, ere I can be thy bride, A hundred miles be flying? But hark ! the clock strikes far and wide, Eleven o'clock 'tis crying." LENCRE. 115 " See here, see there, the moon's bright face, We and the dead must ride apace ; To-day, sweet, thou shalt share My nuptial couch, I swear. "- " Say, where's thy little chamber, dear ? Thy nuptial couch, where is it ? " " Still, cool, and small, not far from here, Eight boards in all are in it." " Hast room for me? " "For thee and me : Come, truss thy dress, spring up to me : The guests await the bride, The chamber door stands wide." His sweetheart trussed her dress and sprung, Herself behind him swinging, Then round the faithful rider hung, With lily hands fast clinging. Then hurry, hurry, trot, trot, trot, Off they went at a rattling gallop, Steed, rider snorted, high The sparks and pebbles fly ! To right and left, on either hand, Before their eyes confounded, How past them flew mead, heath, and land ! The bridges thunderous sounded. n6 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " Dost fear, love ? See, the moon's bright face. Hurrah ! the dead must ride apace ! Dost fear, sweetheart, the dead ? Ah, no, but leave the dead ! " " What clanging notes out yonder surge ? Why are the ravens hovering ? Hark ! tolling bells, hark ! funeral dirge ; Let us the corpse be covering." Behold, a funeral train drew near, Who bore a coffin and a bier ; Their song as when from bog Croaks the ill-boding frog. " The tomb at midnight open wide, With wail and dirge and knelling, I carry home my youthful bride Unto her nuptial dwelling. Come, sexton ; come, O choir, with him, And gurgle out the nuptial hymn ; Come, priest, and bless us, ere We to our couch repair." Then came a rabble, rush, rush, rush ! Behind, with din and bustle, As whirlwinds thro' the hazel bush, Thro' dying leaves wild rustle. LENORE. 117 And further, further, hop, hop, hop, They sped in rattling gallop, Steed, rider snorted, high The sparks and pebbles fly ! How flew all in the distance was, All 'neath the pale moon's shimmer, How flew all overhead that was, The heaven and stars that glimmer. " Dost fear, love ? See, the moon's bright face. Hurrah ! the dead men ride apace ! Dost fear, sweetheart, the dead ? " Ah, let them rest, the dead." " Steed, steed ! methinks the cock doth crow, How quick the sands are wasting ! Steed, steed ! I scent morn's breezes blow, Far hence we must be hasting. An end, an end, has reached our ride, The nuptial chamber opens wide ; The dead men ride apace, We're at, we're at the place ! " Quick to an iron gate below They rushed, with rein loose flowing ; With slender switch he gave a blow, Bolts, bars, and locks undoing. iiS GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The folding-doors clanked, opened wide, And o'er the graves the rabble ride ; In the pale moon's shimmer See, the tombstones glimmer ! But see, see there ! how in a trice Ho ! ho ! a ghastly wonder The rider's jacket, piece by piece, Like tinder falls asunder ! Without one lock or tuft of hair, His head shows like a skull that's bare : A skeleton, alas ! With scythe and hour-glass. The steed pranced high and wildly neighed, Sparks from his nostrils sending. Oh horror ! underneath the maid He vanished, quick descending, And howl on howl was heard on high, And from the grave a shrieking cry ; The heart of poor Lenore 'Twixt life and death strove sore. Now wildly circling round and round, Beneath the moonbeams glancing, The phantom crew sped o'er the ground, And howled this out whilst dancing, THE MINSTREL. 119 " Beware, tho' hearts be rent in twain, To join with God in quarrel vain ! Free of thy body's dole, May God assoil thy soul ! " BURGER. THE MINSTREL. WITHOUT the gate what is't I hear ? What o'er the drawbridge sound ? " Let song again unto our ear Within our halls resound." The monarch spoke, the page obeyed ; The page returned, the monarch said, " Conduct the old man in." " All hail to you, ye noble peers ; All hail to you, fair dames ; A galaxy of stars appears, Who may recount their names ? Within this hall what pomp and pride ! Close, close, O eyes, nor open wide In mute amazement here ! " The minstrel closed his eyes, and drew Notes loud and thrilling forth, The knights gazed round with dauntless mien, The fair dames looked to earth. 120 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The melody so pleased the king, He bade them to the minstrel bring A chain of purest gold. " This chain is for your knights meet prize, Tis not for me to take, Your knights, before whose dauntless eyes The foeman's lances break. Give it thy chancellor to wear, This golden burden let him bear With others that he hath. " I only sing as sings the bird That warbles on the tree, The song my lips pour forth, when heard Is recompense for me. Yet, might I ask, one thing I crave, A draught of wine, the best you have, And from a golden bowl." The bowl was brought, he quaffed it all. " O draught of purest bliss, Thrice-blessed be that house where small Is such a gift as this ! If well thou farest, think on me, Give thanks to God, as I to thee For this delicious draught." GOETHE. THE DIVER. AFTER-THOUGHT. WHEN the vine again is blowing, Stirreth then the wine in tun ; When again the rose is glowing How I feel I do not know. Tears adown my cheeks are running, What I do or leave undone, Only undefined longing Feel I thro' my bosom glow. With myself at length I reason, When I think and muse thereon, Twas in such fair days and season Doris once for me did glow. GOETHE. THE DIVER. " Ho, knights and squires, is there never a one Will plunge in this gulf to-day ? The golden beaker therein I have thrown, To its fierce black jaws is a prey. Whoever will bring that gold beaker to me, An' he like, may keep it, his own it shall be." 122 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. So spake the king, and the cup from him flung Over that precipice steep, Which over the limitless waters there hung, A howling Charybdean deep. " Who is so courageous, I ask it again, As to take a plunge down in that swirling main ? " But dumb as before they all of them stand ; Then a squire, gentle and young, Boldly stept forth from that timorous band, His garment and vest away flung. And the knights and the dames all gazed in surprise, And followed the youngster with wondering eyes. And as he stept to the precipice verge And gazed on the black abyss, The waters that under him swirl and surge Charybdis hurled back with a hiss. As when in the distance the loud thunders roar, The bellows in foam from her dark bosom pour. It seethed and it boiled, it roared and it hissed, As waters that fire assuage, To heaven it scattered in foaming yeast, And floods upon floods roll in rage. And ne'er are they weary, or suffer they dearth, As though the wild ocean to oceans gave birth. THE DIVER. 123 From tumult and rage at length is surcease, And black in the foam-white spray Gapes widely a fathomless yawning abyss, As tho' to hell's self it made way. And the ravenous breakers were torn and whirled, And down in the bubbling whirlpool were hurled. But quick, ere the seething surge reappears, The youth to his God doth pray, And a cry of horror, around, one hears : The vortex hath whirled him away ! The ravenous jaws round the bold swimmer close, To none doth its secrets the vortex disclose. O'er the abyss there was stillness at last, Dull roars from the whirling hell, And quickly from mouth to mouth the words past, "O brave-hearted youngster, farewell." With hollower sound the dull roarings arise, And awe and suspense hold their horror-struck eyes. And didst thou the crown itself therein fling, And saidst, Who will fetch it from there, The crown he shall have, and he shall be king, I'd not for such recompense dare. What the waste watery depths in their bosom conceal, No soul of man living may ever reveal. 124 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Full many a barque, by the vortex held fast, Shot into its gaping womb, But dashed into fragments came keel and mast Alone from the ravenous tomb. Like the roar of a tempest, clearer and clearer, The sound was heard coming on, nearer and nearer. And it seethed and it boiled, it roared and it hissed, As waters that fire assuage, To heaven it scattered in foaming yeast, And floods upon floods roll in rage ; As when in the distance the loud thunders roar, The billows in foam from her dark bosom pour. And behold ! from the depths of the black boiling surge Somewhat arose, snowy white ! And an arm and a gleaming neck only emerge, Cleaving the waves with a ceaseless might. It is he, and high raised in his left hand, behold ! He waves in glad triumph the beaker of gold. He heaved a long breath, he heaved a deep sigh, Saluting the heavenly light; With joyousness each to the other they cry, " He lives ! he has conquered its might ! From the grave, from the vortex, the whirling hell-hole, Hath the gallant arm rescued the man's living soul." THE DIVER. 125 He comes : they surround him with jubilant glee ; At the monarch's feet then he falls ; The beaker he hands him on bended knee : The king to his fair daughter calls. She fills it with sparkling wine up to the brim, And the youth to the monarch turns, saying to him, "Long life to thee, monarch ! Glad may he be, Who breathes here the roseate air, But, under, how terrible is it to be ! To tempt the gods let man beware, And never, oh never presume to reveal What, thro' mercy, in terror and night they conceal. " With the lightning's speed beneath was I torn, Then there gushed from its craggy side, 'Gainst me, a torrent in mad fury borne ; And, seized with the double-stream's tide, In maddening whirls I sped, till my brain, vGrown dizzy, no longer the strife I maintain. " Then caused for me God, to whom I made prayer, In my deepest, deadliest need, Out of the depth a tall crag to uprear, Which, seizing, from death I was freed. And there, from some coral, the cup was depending, Or still it were falling through space never ending. 126 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. " For under me still, as a mountain deep, All zested in purple gloom, Tho' here to the ear it seems ever to sleep, In horror one saw in its womb, How snakes, salamanders, and dragons were found In the depths of this terrible hell to abound. " In medley infernal were swarming there, black, A writhing mass, grim and deform, Torpedo and ray, with its spiny back, And hammer-fish's hideous form. And menacing down in the darkness, the sheen Of the teeth of the ocean's hyaena were seen. " Thus I hung, and I was with a horror opprest, Far from humanity's aid, 'Midst monsters, the one only sentient breast, Alone in that desert, dismayed, Deep down where the voices of man never sound, Where the deep waste of waters with monsters abound. " Then I shuddered, and thought, it is creeping near, With its hundred feet, fold on fold, 'Twill snap ; in the false alarm of my fear, The coral branch slipt from my hold. Then the whirling sea seized me with fury and might, But that was my safety, it bore me to light." THE DIVER. 127 The king at this tale was in wonderment lost, And said, " This beaker's thine own : This ring is thine also 'tis one of great cost, And set with the purest of stone If again thou wilt venture, and word bring to me What thou seest in the uttermost depths of the sea." This tale from his daughter her soft pity drew, She uttered a pleading prayer, " This cruel sport, father, no longer pursue, He ventured what none of them dare. But wouldst thou the lust of thy fell purpose tame, Thy knights stand around thee, the brave squire to shame." The beaker in haste then seizing, the king Hurled down in the seething sea : " That beaker again from the deep an thou bring, My noblest of knights shalt thou be ; And, to-day, for thy bride thou shalt have the fair maid That on thy behalf hath so earnestly prayed." Then a force divine thro' his brave spirit gushed, And his eyes flashed boldly round, As he saw how the fair maid roseate flushed, How she paled as she sank on the ground. This urges him on the sweet prize to obtain, So for life or for death, down he plunges again. 128 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The breakers are heard coming back with a hiss, Heard again is their thunderous roar ; A long look of love is cast down the abyss, And waters on waters still pour. They rush to the surface, then whirl down amain, But none of them brings the brave youth back again. SCHILLER. A THOUSAND flies did I at even slay, Yet did one wake me at the break of day. GOETHE. AH ! DID BUT THE FLOWERS KNOW. AH ! did but the little flowers know How deep the wound of my heart, Their tears would mingle and flow, To ease my pain and smart. Ah ! did but the nightingale guess How sad and sorry am I, She would pipe, to soothe my distress, A quickening melody. And did the stars golden and bright Know all my sorrow and woe, WHY DO THE ROSES WANLY LOOK 1 129 They would come from their radiant height, And words of peace bestow. But, alas ! my sorrows none share, . One only guesses my pain, She for whose love I must wear A heart that is rent in twain. HEINE. WHY DO THE ROSES WANLY LOOK? WHY do the roses wanly look, O tell me, sweetheart, why ? Why silent from its grassy nook Peers forth the violet's eye ? Why sings with such complaining notes The lark high overhead ? Why from each balmy flower upfloats An odour of the dead ? Why shines the sun with sickly ray In coldness and in gloom ? Why does the whole earth look so gray, Aftd desert as a tomb ? 9 130 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And why am I so sick at heart, My love, my darling, say ? Thou who my heart's best treasure art, Why hast thou gone away? HEINE. THOU BEAUTEOUS FISHER MAIDEN. THOU beauteous fisher maiden, Come, thrust thy boat to land ; Come, sit thee down beside me, And prattle hand in hand. Rest thy head upon my bosom, Be not afraid of me ; Dost thou not venture daily Upon the fierce wild sea ? My heart is like the ocean, Has storm and ebb and flow, And many a pearly treasure Rests in its depths below. HEINE. THE RIGHT WORD. TRULY unlucky is that man Who fails to do what he can, And undertakes what he no way knows. What wonder, if to ground he goes ? GOETHE. THE RIGHT WORD. BENEATH Rhine's channel lieth A treasure, golden, bright. Didst know the magic letters 'Twould straightway come to light. That word, if once 'twas uttered, Is potent to restrain The river in its passage, And e'en its might enchain. Deep hidden in a valley Lies a victorious sword ; The whole world thou wouldst conquer Hadst thou the magic word. One word must first be uttered Wide open gapes the ground And from its rocky caverns The bright steel gleams around. 132 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. On yonder mountain summit, Within a shaft profound, By gnomes and dwarfs well guarded, A key is to be found. All doors this key will open ; To thee it is consigned, If out of words ten thousand The right one thou canst find. How often have I pondered Many a year in vain, And word by word commencing, Have made them a refrain. But still for ever hidden Lie treasure, key, and sword ; And long as I am singing, I have not found the word. STOLLERFORTH. IN THE SUMMER. SEE, field and green In dewy sheen ! Pearl-laden round, Flowers gem the ground. Thro' branch and spray Winds freshly play ; THY IMAGE. 133 How loudly in the sun's bright rays The sweet birds trill their roundelays ! But there above, Where rests my love, That room so small And lone, and all So sheltered, sun Ne'er shines upon ; What is the whole world far and wide In all its splendour this beside ? GOETHE. THY IMAGE. THE mountains gleam, the sun sinks low, Thy lovely form I see Beam beauteous in the evening's glow, So far from hope and me. When in the blue arch overhead Beams Hesperus bright and clear, With him thy lovely form doth tread The star-bespangled sphere. In moonlit bowers, with murm'ring sound, The evening's breezes lisp ; 134 GLEANINGS FROM TIIR GERMAN POETS. How gay thy trembling form around The waters curl and crisp. The forest roars, winged thunders stream Athwart the heaven's face ; And in the lightning's sudden gleam Thy form, dear maid, I trace. I see the zigzag lightning rush, And round thee reeling dart, As thoughts of deepest passion gush In flames out of my heart. The chamois bounds from yonder height And fleeth like the wind ; So fled from me is all delight, And is no more to find. Now have I reached, I know not how, A gulph deep and profound ; No beam born of the sun till now Within its womb was found. But now so sweetly thro' its night Thy image seems to glow, Thy face ne'er beamed with smile so bright : Dost beckon me below ? LENAU. IMPATIENCE. 135 IMPATIENCE. OH gladly would I cut it in each tree, On every pebble carve it joyously, On every fresh-made bed it should be sown In seeds of cress, the sooner to be known, On each blank page to write it I am fain, " My heart is thine, and ever shall remain." A little starling, too, I fain would rear Until it spoke in accents loud and clear, Until it spoke them with my lips' loud tone, With the full outgush my hot heart doth own ; Then at her window should it sing this strain, " My heart is thine, and ever shall remain." Fain would I breathe it to the morning breeze, Fain would I send it sighing thro' the trees : Oh that it sparkled on each blossom star, That airs would waft it her from near and far ! Streams, turn ye wheels, and bear out this refrain,- " My heart is thine, and ever shall remain." Methinks that in my eyes, too, it must speak, That all could see it in my burning cheek ; That on my silent lips it was to read, T hat every breath would waft it her with speed ; 136 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. But naught she heeds of all my grievous pain, " My heart is thine, and ever shall remain." WlLHELM MULLER. LILIE'S PARK. YET is there no menagerie So multiform as that of Lilie's ! The most astounding beasts therein one sees, Nor how she keeps them, knoweth she. Oh, how they hop, and run, and bustle, And with cut pinions make a rustle. Wretched princes, here all gathered, In love's tortures ne'er untethered. How named this fay ? Lilie, ask not for her, Know ye her not ; then thank ye God, therefore ! What a commotion, what a cackling, When herself in the doorway stands, And the corn basket holds in her hands ! Oh, what a screeching, what quack, quacking ! The trees and the bushes instinct with life all appearing. Then come the whole flock careering Up to her feet, and in the basin the fishes, LILI&S PARK. 137 Splashing impatiently, with their heads peeping forth. And she the corn then streweth forth, With such a look the very gods charming, To say naught of animals. Begins then a pecking, And a sipping, and a picking, Over each other's backs all tumbling, Pushing, pressing, tearing each other, Chasing, tormenting, biting each other, And all this for a piece of bread, Which, dry, out of the beauteous hands they picked As tho' it had been in ambrosia dipped. But then her look ! and what a tone When she calls, " Pipi, Pipi ! " T would draw Jupiter's eagle from his throne, And Venus' doves also, And the vain peacock thereto : I swear they would appear, If they that voice did from a distance hear. For thus she had from the wood's depths caught A savage bear, unlicked, uneducated, And under lock and key incarcerated, And midst this gentle company had brought, And with the others tame had wrought, Just up to a certain point, that is to say. 138 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. How sweet, and, oh, how good She seemed to be ! I would my very blood Have given, if only I her flowers might water. You said, " I " ? How ? Who ? Where ? Good then, my lords, plump out, I am the bear. In an apron's network was I caught, To her feet led by a silken cord ; But how that all to an end was brought, Another time to you I'll say ; Thereto, I am too mad to-day. For ha ! in the corner do I sit And hear from afar off this clucketing, See this flittering and fluttering, Back I turn o'er, And roar ; And backwards run I for a little bit, And round me glower, And roar ; And run back again for a little bit, And back again I turn once more. Then a frenzy all at once arose ; Snorting bursts the breath from the nose, The inner nature wild doth glare. Why, what a fool ! 'tis but a hare. LILIES PARK. 139 Then a " Pipi," a squirrel, nuts for him to crack. Rise the bristles on my bristling back, To service all unused. By every smooth, pruned tree I am abused And scorned ; I fly from bowling green, From neat and smoothly shaven grass-plot ; The box-tree, too, of me makes sport I fly into the darkest thickets off, Thro' quickset hedges tearing, Over the boards mad careering. To climb or jump forbad, By a leaden spell fast bound, By a spell hooked to the ground, I work myself weary, and am grown quite mad. Then down I crouch at artificial cas_cades, I champ, and roar, and roll myself nigh dead ; But ah ! none heard or pity had, Save porcelain-manufactured Oreads. All at once, ah ! there wings A blessed, peaceful feeling throughout every member; Tis she who yonder in her arbour sings. Once more I hear that lovely, lovely voice of hers ; Perfumed and warm the very atmosphere. Ah, singeth she that I perchance may hear ? I rush along, trampling all thickets under ; 140 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The bushes fly, the trees to me give way, And thus down at her feet the poor brute lay. She looked at it. O monster ! Yet a droll, he, For a bear, by far too mild, For a poodle, far too wild, So shaggy, awkward, woolly. Down his back with tiny foot doth she pat him ; He thinks in paradise he must be. How do all his seven senses rack him, And all calmly on him looketh she. I kiss her shoe, and at her feet down cower me, As modest as a bruin may ; All softly raise myself, and unperceived lower me Lightly on her knee. ' One favoured day She lets me do it, and both my ears doth pull, And pommels me in rough and wanton play. To pleasures newly born, I growl ; Then bids she me in sweet and trifling sport, " Allons tout doux. Eh ! la menotte, Et faites serviteur, Comme un joli seigneur : " So she goes on with sport and laughter. Thus the fool hopes, often cheated, Jests he a bit in idle talking after, As before, he's coolly treated. LILIES PARK. 141 Yet of a flask of fiery balm possessed, That is no earthly honey like, Of which, by love and truth grown soft, she once belike Upon the dry and thirsty parched lips of her beast A small drop with her finger-tip doth strike. And back she flies, and to myself leaves me. Then I, tho' from my chains set free, Spell-bound am, and after her I hie. She seeks me, shudders, and again doth fly. Thus leaves she the poor, ruined wretch. To go Is his desire, and is his torture still. Ha ! often doth she me the door half-open show, Askance regards me, if to fly I will. And I, ye gods ! it is on you depending, That this mystic spell should have an ending. How thankful if I freedom gain at length ! Yet should ye no help grant, or me remember, Not all in vain thus strain I every member, I feel't, I swear't, I still have strength ! GOETHE. 142 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE VISIT. I, TO-DAY, would give my love surprisal, But her door was close against me fastened, Yet have I the key here in my pocket, And the door thus lightly will I open. In the salon found I not the maiden, Neither in the boudoir found the maiden ; When at length her door I gently opened, There I found her daintily reposing, All attired upon the sofa lying. She had fallen asleep as she was working, And her needle with the knitting rested Between her delicate down-fallen fingers. And I sat myself close down beside her, With myself debating, should I wake her. Then did I observe the lovely calmness That upon her eyelids was reposing. Upon her lips was silent truthfulness, On her cheeks did sweetness find a dwelling, And her pure heart's utter innocency To and fro rose with her heaving bosom. Lay in soft abandonment each member, THE VISIT. 143 By celestial balm relaxed and loosened. Happy sat I : and the contemplation Stayed my eager wish her to awaken, With concealed fetters, fast and faster. Oh, thou darling ! thought I, cannot slumber, Of false lineaments the sure betrayer, Can it not shame thee, can it nought discover, To destroy thy lover's good opinion. Thy mild, beaming eyes are closed in slumber, - Eyes, when open, me alone beguiling ; By no motion are thy sweet lips stirred, Or in parlance or in loving kisses ; All relaxed thy arms, those magic fetters, Arms at other times me close enfolding ; And thy hand, associate entrancing Of sweetest adulation, motionless. Did I err then in my judgment of thee ? Was it self-deception that I loved thee ? This I must discover, for God Cupid, Without fillets, near to me is standing. Long while sat I so, and heart-felt pleasure In her worth and in my love was feeling ; Sleeping had she me so much enchanted, That I could not bring myself to wake her. H4 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Then pomegranates twain upon the table, And two roses with them, placed I lightly ; Then away I crept me, softly, softly ; She her eyes did open, my soul's darling ! Straightway saw she these gay-coloured offerings, All astonished, how thro' doors fast closed Came these gifts there friendship's kindly tokens. Should I see, to-day, again this angel, She will rejoice, and me will doubly guerdon For these sweet offerings of my tenderness. GOETHE. THE GOBLET. 'TWAS a richly-chased and well-filled goblet That I held in both my hands fast pressing ; From its brim the sweet wine greedy quaffing, Once for all thus care and sorrow drowning. Cupid here stepped in and found me sitting, And he smiled in covert fashion, As tho' deploring one in ignorance. " Friend, I know a far more beauteous vessel, Worthy to steep thy very soul therein, What dost promise, if I do not grudge thee, That 'twere filled for thee with other nectar ? " THE GOBLET. 145 Ah ! how sweetly has he kept his promise, Since to me, long sighing for thee, Lida, Thee, with soft inclining, he hath fitted ! When thy lovely form my arms encircle, And from thy lips of purest truthfulness Balm of long approved love I gather, Happy, then, I say unto my spirit, " No, not such a goblet, Love excepted, Any god possessed or fashioned ever ; Such a shape Vulcanus never fashioned With his soul-endowed and skilful hammers. On the leafy hillside let Lyceus Bid his oldest and his wisest Satyrs Tread the juices of his choicest vintage, And himself overlook the mystic ferment : E'en his skill could no such potion mingle." GOETHE. WHO then is the sovereign man ? 'Tis easily understood : He whom no one hinder can, Seek he evil or good. GOETHE. 10 146 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. HERO AND LEANDER. SEE those castles ruined lying, O'er the straits each other eyeing, Glittering 'neath the sunlight's gold Where the Hellespont is pouring Through the Dardanelles, and roaring Through the gates of rock is rolled ? Hear'st thou not those breakers raging, Bursting o'er the rocks in spray ? Asia from Europe rent they, But they scared not love away. Brave Leander and fair Hero With the sweet wound of his arrow Amor's god-like might oppressed, Hero, fair as Hebe blooming, He, o'er mountain ranges roaming, With a hunter's eager zest. But their fathers' deadly hatred Far apart those lovers drove, And upon the brink of danger Hung the sweet fruit of their love. There, on Sesto's rock-girt tower, Where, in everlasting shower, HERO AND LEANDER. 147 Hellespontus bursts in foam, Sat the maid, sad, solitary, Gazirfg at Abydos, where he, Her beloved one, had his home. But unto that strand far distant, Joining strand no bridge bestrode, From that shore put off no vessel ; Yet did love find out a road. Love with threads unerring traces Paths thra' labyrinthine mazes, Dullards can with wit endow; Bows the neck of wild beasts yoking, Binds the bulls, with nostrils smoking, To the adamantine plough. Styx itself, tho' nine-fold flowing, 'Gainst love's daring powerless is, Mighty to regain the loved one From the gloomy halls of Dis. And those waters wildly surging, Love, with his fierce fury urging, Pricks Leander on to brave ; When at eve the daylight's glimmer Paleth, leaps the hardy swimmer Into Pontus' gloomy wave ; 148 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Parts with stalwart arm the billows, Struggling to the wished-for strand, Where, from lofty turret gleaming, Burns the torch's fiery brand. Now, with soft arms round him pressing, Happy, he may taste love's blessing, From the wave's hard contest won ; And that prize divine possesses, Which, with blissful, soft caresses Love accords in benison. Till the loiterers fair Aurora Wakens from their golden dream, Scares him from his love's soft bosom, Into ocean's icy stream. Thirty circuits Phoebus measures In those sweet and stolen pleasures Which the happy pair enjoy : Bridal hours of pleasures joyous, Which the gods themselves begrudge us, Young and fresh, they never cloy. Who hath ne'er this fruit of heaven Plundered on the dread abyss Of the awful Stygian river, Ne'er hath tasted perfect bliss. HERO AND LEANDER. 149 Fair Aurora and the Even Clomb in turns the vault of heaven ; But their bliss doth so enthral, Marked they not the verdure dying, Nor stern winter's advent flying From the northern ice-bound hall. With delight they saw day's circle Ever growing less and less, And for evening's lengthened pleasure Foolish prayers to Jove address. And the balance now was even 'Twixt the day and night in heaven, And the maiden took her stand On that rock-girt fortress, spying ; Saw the sun's fleet coursers flying Where the sky-line meets the land. And the ocean, still and quiet, Mirror-like, to rest was laid, And no slightest breath of zephyr Did the crystal realm invade. 'Neath the silv'ry waves appearing, Shoals of dolphins played, careering In the clear, pure element ; 150 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And in dark grey mass emerging From the ocean's depths, upsurging, Came the herds by Tethys sent. They, the only ones, who witnessed When Love's secret bond was tied, But Queen Hecate bound them ever In deep silence to abide. Down upon the lovely ocean Gazed the maid with fond emotion, And with flattering words exclaims, " Lovely god, thou a deceiver ? No ; I brand as liar whoever Thee as false and traitrous blames. Treacherous may the race of men be, Stern and grim a father's heart, But thou art too kind and gracious, Thou canst feel love's pain and smart. " On this rock-girt fortress dreary, Might I joyless live, and weary, And in ceaseless sorrow pine : But upon thy wave thou bearest, Without bridge or barque, my dearest Safe into these arms of mine. Horror lurks in thy abysses, Fearfully thy billows roll, HERO AND LEANDER, 151 Yet art moved by love's entreaties, Vanquished by heroic soul. " For in thee, O god of ocean, Eros darted wild commotion ; On the golden ram, what time Helle, with her brother flying, Over thy abyss was hieing, In her youth's fair blossom-prime. Quickly, by her beauty conquered, Thou didst rise from out thy cave 7 From her fleecy charger plucked her, Bore her 'neath the ocean's wave. " Goddess now with god abiding, 'Neath the caves of ocean hiding, Lives she there for evermore ; Hindrances to lovers smootheth, Thy wild angry tumult sootheth, Brings the sailor safe to shore. Lovely goddess ! Beauteous Helle ! In thy bliss to thee I pray,. This day also my beloved Bring upon his wonted way." Gloom is o'er the ocean growing, And she caused the torch bright glowing 152 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. From the lofty tower to wave ; That upon those waters dismal Guide might the accustomed signal To her arms that wanderer brave. And it rumbles, roars, and hurtles, Gloomier the billows swirl, And the light of stars obscuring, Comes the tempest's roar and whirl. Far and wide, o'er Pontus roaring, Broods the night, and torrents pouring From the cloud's womb burst to life ; Lightnings in the ether flashing, From their rocky prisons crashing, All the storms are loosed for strife. In the wide and wat'ry vortex Chasms vast and monstrous peep ; Like the jaws of hell, wide gaping, Yawns the ocean's nether deep. " Mercy, mercy, Jove ! " the maiden Cried, with tears, and sorrow-laden ; " If the gods should hear my prayer, If, in this wild storm's commotion He hath trusted trait'rous ocean, Ah, to pray why did I dare ? HERO AND LEANDER. 153 All the fowl that haunt the waters, Homeward winging, haste away, All the storm-tossed vessels shelter Seek in some securer bay. " Ah ! be sure, that soul unshaken, Risks again hath undertaken, Forced by mighty Deity. At our parting this he swore me, Swore it by the love he bore me : Death alone can set him free. Ah ! now at this very moment He the tempest's fury braves, And deep down in those abysses Hurry him the angry waves. " O false Pontus, under cover Of thy calm, did treason hover ? Mirror-like thou didst appear ; Smoothly spiteful thou wast running, Till thou'dst lured him forth with cunning In thy false and lying sphere. Now in middle of thy tumult, Whence he may return no more, Thou on thy deluded victim All thy terrors dost outpour." 154 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Louder grows the tempest's roaring, Mountain high the waves upsoaring, Ocean swells, the breakers break Foaming 'gainst the rocks, and even May no oak-ribbed ship, unriven, Dare a near approach to make. And the storm the torch extinguished That was guide to him before ; Horror on the waste of waters, Horror broods upon the shore. Then she prays to Aphrodite ; She would bid that storm-god mighty Ocean's tempests to withhold ; And she vowed that she would offer Costly sacrifice, and proffer Them a steer, with horn of gold. Every goddess of the ocean, All the gods in air who reign Prays she, they would oil be pouring On the tempest-troubled main. " Let my supplications reach thee ; From thy green cave, I beseech thee, Rise, Leneothea, blest queen, Whom the sailor, tempest weary, HERO AND LEANDER. 155 In thy waters waste and dreary, Bearing succour oft hath seen. With thy sacred veil surround him, That, with mystic-woven weft, Those who wear it, bears to safety From the grave of waters reft. " Then the wild winds ceased careering, And on heaven's verge appearing, Eos' steeds mount up on high. To its old bed, from commotion, Mirror-like returns the ocean, Brightly smiles the sea and sky. Softly breaking roll the billows On that steep and rock-girt strand, And, in gentle ripples playing, Floated they a corse to land. Yes, 'tis he, tho 7 dead before her Faithful to the oath he swore her ; At a glance she knows him well. With no loud-voiced sorrow calling, From her eyes no tear-drops falling, Cold despair upon her fell. Hopeless, on the waste of waters, Stare th she, on Aether's light, 156 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And a noble glow suffuses That sweet face, woe-wan and white. " Mighty Powers ! I recognise ye ; Sternly and inexorably Ye exact your rights divine. Soon, alas, life's sands are wasted, But true bliss have I here tasted, And the sweetest lot was mine. I have ever in thy temple To thee living priestess been ; Dying, now myself I offer Willingly, O mighty queen." From her rock-girt elevation Sprang the maid in desperation Into Pontus' gloomy wave. High upon his realm of billows Now the god their corses pillows, And he is to both their grave. With his double prey contented, Rolling, joyous forth he goes, While from out his urn exhaustless The eternal current flows. SCHILLER. DEATH HARMONIES. 157 DEATH HARMONIES. THE SERENADE. WHAT, mother, are those dulcet sounds That me from slumber rouse ? mother, see, what can it be So late before our house ? 1 nothing hear, I nothing see, Sleep on in slumber mild ; They do not serenade thee now, Thou poor and dying child ! It is not earthly harmony That gives me such delight, Angelic choirs call me away : My mother dear, good-night ! THE ORGAN. Oh play that organ once again, Old friend and neighbour mine, Try if can rouse my heart to life Its harmonies divine. The sick one begged, the neighbour plays As played he ne'er before, 158 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. So sweet, so pure, that what he played He recognised no more. It is a strange and holy strain That from his hands doth roll, He stops in awe and wonder : lo ! Had fled the sick one's soul. THE THROSTLE. I cannot in the garden go, Must lie here summer long ; Could I but hear that joyous thrush That filled the bush with song ! The bird they caught, and gave the child, There caged now must it stay ; But sing will it no more, and droops Its little head alway. A last glance cast the child on it With supplicating eyes ; Then sweet and clear the thrush trills forth His eyes gleam bright, he dies. UHLAND. AFTER CALL. 159 AFTER CALL, THOU, mother, saw'st mine eyes when drinking The first light of this earthly sun ; Upon thy face, death-pale and wan, I saw a ray from heaven sinking. For thee, my mother, has been dug a grave, Within to thee well-known and silent spot, There shades of native growth around it wave, And at its threshold flowers are lacking not. Thou liest there unharmed, as thou hast died, With every breath of comfort and of smart ; Even to live again is not denied ; I made this grave for thee within my heart. Ceased sounding, fading gradually, That holy burial strain ; But ever in my heart of thee Sweet melodies remain. The earth was scarcely o'er thee laid, A friend came to thy tomb, With roses sweet he overspread Thy silent sleeping room. i6o GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. At thy head two softly glowing, At foot two dark he placed ; The white one, ever blowing, He planted o'er thy breast. See ! at my feet a leaf falls down, Drenched with the rain and tired of sun ; When this same leaf was green and new I still had parents fond and true. A leaf ! ah, what a fleeting thing, The autumn's spoil, the child of spring ; And yet this leaf that flutters here Hath outlived all I held most dear. The death-bell once upon my ear Did sad and mournful fall ; But since its peal for ye I hear, It has a homeward call. UHLAND. SCHILLER. THE MEETING. I SEE her still, encircled by her maidens. Amongst them all the noblest stood she there, To gaze upon she was a sun in radiance ; I stood afar, nor durst approach her near. SCHILLER. 161 Voluptuous, weird-like horror on me fastens, As all her splendours, spreading wide, appear, Yet swift, as tho' strong pinions had impelled me, To strike the chords a sudden fancy held me. In those sweet moments what I then was feeling, And what I sang, I cannot now evoke ; An organ new and strange, itself revealing, The sacred motions of my bosom spoke. The soul it was, that, fettered long in feeling, Now, once for all, thro' every barrier broke, And in her deepest depths a voice discovered That god-like and unguessed in sleep lay smothered. And as the chords had rested long in silence, My spirit back to me returning came, I saw in features of angelic semblance How love was striving with a gracious shame. And then, methought, I soared to highest heavens, As to mine ears those soft sweet accents came Ah, only there, 'midst choirs of spirits holy, E'er shall I hear again that full-toned melody : " The faithful heart that hopeless wastes alone, And mutely modest gives its love no utterance, I know its worth, tho' to itself unknown, Upon mere luck the noblest shall have vengeance, 1 62 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The brightest lot shall grace the needy one ; 'Tis love alone may gather love's full fragrance ; The richest gifts unto that heart pertain That love can feel and can requite again." SCHILLER. THE WANDERER. WANDERER. MAY God bless thee, youthful wife, And the baby-boy sucking Upon thy breast ! Let me 'gainst the wall of rock here, 'Neath the elm tree's shadow, Cast my burden off me, Near thee take repose. WIFE. What business drives thee Thro' the noonday's ardour, On the dusty path here ? Bring'st thou wares from out the town, Round the country ? Art thou laughing Stranger, at my question ? WANDERER. Merchandise I bring not from the town ; Cool is now the evening ; THE WANDERER. 163 Show to me the fountain Whence thou drinkest, .' Lovely, youthful wife ! WIFE. On the rocky path up here, Go forward. Thro' the bushes Leads the path to the cottage Wherein I live. WANDERER. Marks of orderly human hand Between the bushes ! And those stones were by thee never joined, Rich, down-showering Nature ! WIFE. Yet higher up ! WANDERER. An architrave with moss o'ergrown ! I recognize thee, plastic spirit, Thou hast thy seal upon these stones imprest. WIFE. Onward, stranger. 1 64 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. WANDERER. An inscription upon which I trample ! Nought do I read ; Worn are ye quite away, Deep-engraved letters ! Ye that should your graver's meaning To thousand grandchildren declare ! WIFE. Wond'rest, stranger, At these fragments ? Many are the fragments there, Around my dwelling. WANDERER. Up there ? WIFE. Through the bushes, Straight to the left, up Here! WANDERER. Ye Muses, and ye Graces ! WIFE. There, that is my dwelling. WANDERER. Fragments of a temple ! 7 HE WANDERER. 165 WIFE. Here, down at this side Springs the fountain From whence I drink. WANDERER. Glowing wav'st thou Over thy sepulchre, Genius ! Over thee Is heaped confusedly Thy masterpiece, O thou undying one ! WIFE. Wait : I will bring a goblet From whence to drink. WANDERER. Ivy hath round thy slender, God-like structure entwined. How thou dost aspire From the ruins, Pillared pair ! And thou, solitary sister, there ! How ye, With dark moss upon your hallowed he; Majestically weeping, look down 1 66 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. On your scattered brethren, Here prostrate fallen, At your feet lying ! Under the bramble-bush's shadow Hide them earth and rubbish ; And tall grass noddeth over them. Esteemest thou so, Nature, Thy masterpiece's masterpiece ? Unfeelingly shatterest thou Thy sanctuary ? Sowest thistles there ? WIFE. How the babe sleeps ! Wilt thou in the cottage rest, Stranger ? Wilt thou here Rather rest beneath free heaven ? It is cool. Take the baby, Whilst I go and water draw thee. Sleep, my sweet one, sleep ! WANDERER. Sweet be thy repose. How, in heaven-fed healthfulness Swimming, softly breathes he ! O thou, born upon the reliques Of the hallowed past, repose THE WANDERER. $67 Its spirit on thee ! Whom this hovers o'er, Will in God-like consciousness Every day rejoice. Blossoms forth full bud, Of the glistening spring time Glorious pride ! And shine thou before thy companions. When drops thy blossom-cover off, Then burst forth from thy bosom May the full fruit And ripen, towards the sun turning ! WIFE. God's blessings on him ! Sleeps he still ? Nothing have I with this limpid draught, Save this dry loaf, that I can offer thee. WANDERER. I give thee thanks. How full of blossom is all here, And green ! WIFE. My husband soon Home from the fields Will come. O tarry, tarry, friend, And eat with us thy evening meal. 168 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. WANDERER. Do ye live here ? WIFE. Aye ! up amongst the ruins here ! Built was the cottage by my father Of bricks, and from the ruin's fragments. Here do we dwell. He gave me to a husbandman, And died in our embraces. Hast thou been sleeping, blessed heart ! How awake he is and full of play, Thou rogue ! WANDERER. O Nature, ever blossoming, Thou makest all to enjoy existence ! And hast thy children all so motherly Endowed with their fair heritage a cottage. High builds the swallow 'neath the eaves, Unheeding what adornment He plasters ; The palmer round the golden spray Spins for its brood a winter home ; And thou sett'st between the hallowed ruins Of long past ages For thy necessities. THE WANDERER. 169 A cottage here, O man ! Rejoicest over graveyards. Farewell, happy wife ! WIFE. Thou wilt not tarry ? WANDERER. God preserve thee, And bless thy baby ! WIFE. God speed thy way ! WANDERER. Whither takes me the path, Here, up the hill ? WIFE. To Cumae. WANDERER. How far is it ? WIFE. Three miles and more. WANDERER, Farewell ! O direct my footsteps, Nature, The stranger's wandering steps, 170 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. While o'er the graveyards Of the hallowed centuries I wander. Lead him to the port North sheltered, And where, 'gainst midday beams A poplar forest shades ; And when I turn At even to my cottage-home, Made golden by last ling'ring rays, Give me welcome such a wife, A babe within her arms ! GOETHE. TENDER thoughts and sweet recollection, That is life in its greatest perfection. GOETHE. LOVE AS LANDSCAPE PAINTER. EARLY sat I on the mountain summit, Gazing on the mist with rigid eyeball, Spread before me like a pall grey grounded, All things in the height and breadth enshrouding ; Near me at my side there stood a stripling. " Dear friend," said he, " why, with fixed staring, LOVE AS LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 171 On the empty pall dost gaze abstracted ? Hast thou then for painting and portrayal Lost for ever all thy inclination ? " Looked I on the child, and said within me, " Will this youngster then the master fashion ? Wilt thou aye continue sad and musing ? " Spake the youngster, "Has thy craft then left thee ? See, I'll draw thee here a little picture, Teach thee how to make a pretty picture." He extended then his index finger, Which was pink and rosy as a rosebud, On the broad and wide extended carpet, Began to draw upon it with his finger. Overhead, a lovely sun he painted, Which shone in my eyes with mighty splendour, And the edges of the clouds made golden, And the sun rays thro' the clouds were gleaming Painted, next, the light and slender summits Of the trees, new quickened ; drew the mountains One on other in the background, freely. Below, he let there be no lack of water, Sketched the river all so true to nature, That it in the sunbeams seemed to sparkle, That it seemed to lofty margin rushing. 172 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Ah ! and flowers were planted by the river, And there were bright colours in the meadows, Gold, enamel, emerald, and purple, Shining like smaragd and like carbuncle. Bright and clear, above, he made the heavens, And the azure mountains, far and farther, That I quite enchanted and born newly, Gazed now on the painter, now the picture. " Have I then," so said he, " to thee proven, That I in this handicraft am skilful ? But the hardest yet awaits a trial." Then he traced in with his taper finger, And with great precision in the thicket, At the end, just where the sun did strongly From the bright ground back reflected glisten, Traced the sweetest, loveliest of maidens, Finely moulded, elegantly vested, Freshly cheeks beneath her auburn tresses, And the cheeks were of the selfsame colour With the tiny fingertip that traced them. " O thou boy," I cried, " what kind of master Hath taken thee in his academy, That so quickly thou, so true to nature, Begin'st and endest all so cleverly ? " JAGER SONG. 173 Whilst I yet was speaking, lo ! there riseth A gentle zephyr, and doth stir the summit, Crisping all the waves upon the river ; Fills the veil of the consummate maiden, And what me, astonished, more astounded, 'Can upon her feet to rise the maiden, Comes and goes, then near the spot approaches, Where I'm seated with my frolic teacher. Now, when all around me was in motion, The trees, the stream, the flowers, and her veil, And the dainty foot of the all fairest, Think you that upon the mountain summit, Like a rock, I fixed and still was staring ? GOETHE. IN the world do things go with you ill, You can't do right, do what you will. GOETHE. JAGER SONG. ARISE, ye Jagers, bold and free, Your weapons take in hand ! The world must to the brave man yield, Seek ye the foe, the battle-field, For German Fatherland ! 174 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. From North and South, from East and West, Revenges flame doth urge : From Oder, Wesser, and from Main, Where flow the Elbe and Father Rhine, Where Danube's waters surge. Our hearts are swelling high : we stand In one great brotherhood ; Speech knits us in one holy band, Knits us one God, one Fatherland, One true and German blood. Our hearths and homes we quit them not With hopes of rapine led ; 'Gainst tyrants and their shameless might We struggle in the joyous fight, For this our blood we shed. And you, our dear ones, God shall be Your buckler and your shield ; The debt we owe we'll pay with blood, For freedom is the highest good, Though thousands strew the field. Then up, bold Jagers ! though the tears From loving eyes do flow : BLUCHER AND WELLINGTON. 175 God aids us in the hallowed strife, We'll conquer or we'll lose our life : Speed, Jagers, 'gainst the foe ! THEODORE KORNER. BLUCHER AND WELLINGTON. WHEN Blucher bold and Wellington Met, victors, on their steeds, Each to other long well known For their heroic deeds ; Thus spake to Wellington Blucher bold ; " Hail, hero, young in years ! In craft and foresight eke as old, As I with my grey hairs." Then spake to Blucher Wellington ; " Hail, hero of proved skill, Whose grey hairs show thee veteran, Whose heart is youthful still ! " There stood the young man and the old, And grasped each other's hand : And questioned, did the whole world hold A pair with them to stand. FREDERICK RUCKERT. 176 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. DRINKING SONG BEFORE BATTLE. THE battle's begun ! To pass the cup joyfully round In true German fashion we're bound : On, brothers, on ! The wine sparkles still ! Ere we hear the loud trumpets' bray, We'll merrily live whilst we may ; Fill, brothers, fill ! God, Father ! hear What with thy sons' ultimate breath Is sworn at the portals of death ! Swear, brothers, swear ! Rock of our land ! We'll conquerors be or we'll die ; That round thee no fetters shall lie, Here's word and hand ! Hark, comes it near ! Love, joy, or sorrow betide us, Death, thou canst no more divide us ; Cheer, brothers, cheer ! BOY ROBERT'S OATH. 177 Hark, that war cry ! The trumpets are sounding ! away For life and for death to the fray ! Drain, brothers, dry ! THEODOR KORNER. BOY ROBERT'S OATH. THE youthful Robert, true and bold, A drawn sword in his hand doth hold ; That sword upon the altar laid, To heaven he sware, and thus he said, " I swear to thee, O Fatherland, With naked swordblade in my hand, Before this altar's sacred shrine, E'en to the death I will be thine. " I swear I will be true to thee, With latest breath, O Liberty, With heart and soul, with my life's blood ! For thou art mortal's highest good. " I swear, too, fierce and bloody hate, And scorn that never shall abate, 'Gainst Franks and all their flippant band That desecrate our German land. 178 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. 11 Thou whose pavilion is above, Who rulest suns, and hearts dost move, Almighty God ! Thy aid afford, That I may keep my plighted word. " That from deceit and lying free, Thy righteous soldier I may be : That hand of mine this trusty blade Ne'er draw forth save the right to aid. " And should it 'gainst the Fatherland Or God be drawn : then wither, hand, Then shiver arm, as sapless wood, A straw to thee be heavy load ! " No, no, this never shall befall, Men shall not Robert villain call ! " By God, the Lord, boy Robert sware, Honour and truth his guiding star. ERNST MORITZ ARNDT. ANDREW HOFER. AT Mantua, in fetters, the faithful Hofer lay, At Mantua by foeman to death was borne away : Bled for him every brother's heart, All Germany in pain and smart, And eke the whole Tyrol. ANDREW HO PER. 179 His hands behind him fastened, brave Andrew Hofer strode, With footsteps firm and quiet, nor thoughts on death bestowed : That death that on the foe oft fell, From Inselberg adown thy vale, O sacred land, Tyrol ! * But when out of the prison bars of strong-built Mantua, The hands of his true comrades stretched out to him he saw, " God be with you," aloud he said, " With Germany that is betrayed, And with the land Tyrol." The drummer he could scarcely sound the roll upon his drum, When from the gloomy portals we see brave Hofer come, Our Hofer, though in fetters, free ; There on the bastion firm stood he, The man of the Tyrol. They bade him kneel ; then spake he, " That's not for such as I ; I'll meet death as I stand here, as I have fought, I'll die. i8o GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. As here I stand upon the wall, On Kaisir Franz God's blessing fall, And on His land Tyrol ! " Forthwith by the corporal his fetters off were cast, Andrew Hofer prayeth here the prayer that is his last: Then cried aloud, " Men, take good aim ; Fire ! what bad shots ye are, for shame ! Adieu, my land, Tyrol." JULIUS MOSEN. THE GOOD STEED. ALAS ! my brave old charger, My dapple-grey is gone, A horse so true and clever, In all our force I never Saw match him any one. And as he lay a-dying, He turned on me his eye, No words could say it stronger,- I cannot serve thee longer, My master dear, good-bye ! And there where he had fallen I dug an honoured grave ; TROOPER SONG. 181 Beneath green turf I laid him, A linden tree to shade him, Fit tribute to the brave ! The birds they sit and sing there His requiem in a throng : What need of sculptured letter To prove no steed was better ! Just listen to their song ! WITZEL. IN my vicinity There are many wise indeed ; Who, save in their own breviary, Nothing else can read. GOETHE. TROOPER SONG. AWAY, brave companions ! your horses mount ! To the field ! fight in freedom's spirit. There a brave man still doth for somewhat count, There a true heart still has its merit. In the field for another there fighteth none, There each one stands for himself alone. 182 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Vanished from the world is true liberty ; But lords and slaves now remaining, There's nought but deceit and trickery O'er coward hearts of mortals reigning. Who dares in the face death boldly to scan ? The soldier alone is the true free man. The anguish of life he throws it away, There's no care for him more or sorrow ; He meets fate boldly, come when it may, Perchance or to-day or to-morrow. Then comes it to-morrow, to-day he'll laugh, And Time's precious bowl to the dregs he'll quaff. From Heaven comes down man's fortunate fate, No need to strive without measure : The poor drudge that delves in the earth so late Is hoping to find there a treasure : He digs and shovels till life is past, And digs, till he digs his own grave at last. The horse and his rider guests are they, At whom all men are affrighted, At the marriage feast, where lamps glitter gay, He comes as a guest uninvited. No gold showeth he, nor long doth pray, But bears his prize in a storm away. THE TROOPER'S MORNING SONG. 183 Why, maiden, dost thou weep and pine away ? Let him off to the wars, I pray thee ; There's no resting place where he may stay, With true love he cannot repay thee. His restless fortune impels him on, On no place leaves he a benison. Then up, brave comrades ! boot and saddle, and ride ! Our breasts for the fight are glowing ; Our hot youth frets with life's foaming tide, Away, ere it ceases from flowing ! Who casts not his life upon this main, To win true life he shall labour in vain. FRIEDRICH V. SCHILLER. THE TROOPER'S MORNING SONG. ROSY morn ! rosy morn ! On thy beams swift death is borne ; Soon the trumpets will be blowing, Soon my life blood will be flowing, Mine, and many a comrade's bold. Quick as thought, quick as thought, To an end our joys are brought, 184 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Yesterday, on proud steed flying, Now, heart-stricken, sadly dying, Morrow, in the grave so cold. In decay, in decay, Form and beauty fade away ; What though now thy cheeks are glowing, Like to milk and purple showing, Ah, the roses soon will fade ! And what is, I prithee, what Here below our fleeting lot ? Full of care and full of sorrow, Labour we from early morrow, Till the day is past and gone. Therefore I, therefore I, Restful with God's will comply. Bravely in the battle bear me, And, if in the face death stare me, Die as trooper bold should die. WILHELM HAUFF. AMELIA. BRIGHT as an angel of Walhalla, none In all the earth so beautiful as he ! Celestial mild his glance, as May-morn sun Gleams in the azure mirror of the sea. TO THE ABSENT ONE. 185 A paradise to me his kisses felt, Like flames of fire in mingling agony, As tones of harp in one another melt, And die in full celestial harmony. Strove, melted, flew the soul to soul fast bound, The lips, the cheeks burned, quivered as in pain, Soul rushed to soul ; the heavens and earth swam round In mazy circles to the loving twain. And he is gone ! in vain, alas ! the strife, To follow with a sigh where he doth pass. And he is gone, and all the breath of life Moans sadly forth in one forlorn alas ! SCHILLER. TO THE ABSENT ONE. AND art thou truly lost to me, dear ? Hast thou away, O fairest, flown ? Still rings in the accustomed ear Thy every word, thy every tone. Like as the wanderer's eye at morning All vainly in the air doth gaze, When in the blue expanse upsoaring The lark high o'er him trills her lays. 186 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Anxiously, thus all around my eye Through field, through wood, through bush doth rove, Every song of mine to thee doth cry, Come back to me, return, my love ! GOETHE. WOE is me, oh woe ! I am a sorry wight, My dreams are not true, And my thoughts not right. GOETHE. COMFORT IN SORROW. WHENCE comes it that so sad thou art, When joyous all appears ? 'Tis easy from thine eyes to tell That thou hast been in tears. " What though I to myself have wept, It is for mine own smart, And much do tears so sweetly shed Bring comfort to the heart." Thy frolic friends do summon thee, O come into our heart ! COMFORT IN SORROW. 187 And whatsoever thou hast lost, In confidence impart. " Ye brawl and babble, nor divine What 'tis that pains me so ; Ah, no ; 'tis nothing I have lost, How great so e'er my woe." Then quickly pluck thy spirits up, Thy young blood flows amain, Thy early years do give thee strength And courage to attain. " Ah no ! I ne'er can it attain, It stands for me too far, It hangs too high, it shines too bright, As overhead yon star." The stars we do not them desire, Yet we enjoy their light, And with enraptured gaze look up On every radiant night. " And I with rapture upwards gaze Full many a livelong day ; Then grant to me to weep o' nights, So long as weep I may." GOETHE. 1 88 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE FIELD-MARSHAL. Now forward, brave Hussars ! don't you hear the trumpet's call ? With headlong speed is riding our gallant Field- marshal, On his high-mettled charger he rides gaily by, His sharp-gleaming sabre he brandishes on high. See ye not how bright the light is gleaming in his eye ? In the wind his snow-white hair is streaming gallantly, His age blossoms freshly as wine that's good and old, Therefore in the battle-field he is our leader bold. When all else was in ruin, the only man was he, Who towards high heaven raised his sabre valiantly, And there upon the steel an angry oath he sware, The Frenchman he would teach how thorough Ger- mans are. That oath he kept it well, when the battlecry out rang, Ha ! how the hoary youngster into the saddle sprang. Soon he made a clean sweep of all the foreign band, And with his iron besom he purified the land. At Liitzen, in the meadow, he spread such havoc round, That many thousand Frenchmen lay lifeless on the ground. THE FIELD MARSHAL. 189 There in headlong rout many thousands fled amain, Thousands ten are sleeping who ne'er shall wake again. At Catsbach, on the water, this oath was kept by him, 'Twas there he gave the Frenchman a less on how to swim. Now farewell, ye Frenchman ! off to the Baltic Sea : And grave to you, ye rascals ! the whale's belly be. At Wartburg on the Elbe how he charged there thro' them all ! No safety for the Frenchman on rampart or on wall. Like hares across the fields in haste the foeman fled, Troopers shouting after by gallant Blucher led. Then on the plains of Leipzig, O great and noble fight! He overthrew the French in their glory and their might, After bloody battle in peace there are they laid, And there gallant Blucher a Field-marshal was made. Then forwards, brave Hussars ! don't you hear the trumpet's call ? In headlong speed is riding by our gallant Field- marshal ; Forward ! victorious ! across the Rhine advance, And lead thy gallant sabres onward into France ! ERNST MORITZ ARNDT. 190 GLEANINGS FROM THE' GERMAN POETS. THE YOUTH AND THE MILL STREAM. THE YOUTH. thou limpid brook so gay, Where going? So light of heart thou speedst away, Down flowing. What seekst thou eager in the vale ? Now list to me, and tell thy tale. THE STREAM. 1 was a brook once ; men perforce Entombed me, And hemmed me in, to rapid course Have doomed me ; To yonder mill I needs must go, And swift and strong I ever flow. THE YOUTH. Thou hastest millwards in cold mood, And calmly, Nor knowst what I in my young blood Feel warmly. Doth not the fair mill lassie's eye Oft kindly glance as thou flow'st by ? THE YOUTH AND THE MILL STREAM. 191 THE STREAM. The shutters she at morning's light Unslippeth, And in my stream her face so bright She dippeth. Her bosom is so full and white, I boil and bubble with delight. THE YOUTH. Lights she love's fire, and makes a flood Turn lover ? How shall one peace in flesh and blood Discover ! Who once hath looked on her is fain To follow her and look again. THE STREAM. In foam against the wheels I dash Unquiet, And all the scoops turn round in splash And riot : Since here the maid bestows her pains, The water greater force attains. THE YOUTH. Feel'st not the pain by all confest, Thou poor one ? 192 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. She mocks at thee, and says in jest, Now flow on. Forsooth doth she with wooing look Restrain thee in thy course, O brook ? THE STREAM. So hard 'tis hence, so hard to go And wander ! I wind the meads along and slow Meander ; And did it on me but depend, My course I soon should backwards bend. THE YOUTH. I quit thee, O thou sharer in Love's madness. Perchance, one day thou'lt murmur in Pure gladness. Go tell her oft, and tell her straight, For what the youth doth wish and wait. GOETHE. THE VIOLET. A VIOLET in a meadow grew, With bending stalk and hid from view, In sooth, a dainty violet ! SELF-DECEPTION. 193 Passed by a youthful shepherdess, With lightsome trip and joyousness, Adown, adown The mead and trilled her song. Ah ! thinks the violet, would I were In all the world the fairest flower. Ah ! for one fleeting minute, Until my love had gathered me, Faint in her breast had sheltered me, One hour's short quarter long. But ah ! there passed the maid with speed, And of the violet took no heed, Crushed the poor violet. It sang, and died, nor yet was sad ; " If die I must, to die I'm glad, Through her, through her, Beneath her dainty tread." GOETHE. SELF-DECEPTION. THE curtains of my neighbour fair Sway to and fro, I see ; She watches o'er the way, I swear, If I at home may be. 13 194 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And if the mad and jealous pain That I have felt all day Deep in my breast doth still remain, As now it must for aye. But, woe is me ! the lovely child Doth not such feelings know ; 'Tis but the evening zephyr mild That blows them to and fro. THE COQUETTE. ON a bright and sweet spring morning, Tripped the shepherdess and sang, Young and fair, all sorrow scorning, That it thro' the fields loud rang, So la, la, la, ralla. Thyrsis offered, kiss him would she, Two, three lambkins on the spot Roguishly a moment stood she, Song and laugh still ceased she not, So la, la, la, ralla. And another proffered ribbons, And his heart a third ; but she Treated both the heart and ribbons, As the lambkins, scornfully. GOETHE. SONG. 195 THE CONVERT. IN the evening's ruddy glowing Sped I soft the woods along ; Damon sat his pipe a-blowing, Echoing the rocks among, So la, la. Then he drew me down beside him, And with sweet warm kisses plied. Blow again, I soft did chide him, And the kindly youth complied, So la, la. Now alas ! my rest is broken, Wings my happiness hath ta'en ; In my ears there still is spoken Yet the old familiar strain. GOETHE. SONG. MY verses are full of venom : Could it otherwise be ? Thou, thou hast infused the poison In the bloom of life for me. 196 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. My verses are full of venom : Could it otherwise be ? I bear in my breast many serpents, And, sweetheart ! I carry thee. HEINE. THE CHAPEL. STANDS the chapel on the mountain, Calmly down the vale doth look, Underneath the sheep boy wanders Carolling by mead and brook. Mournfully the bell is tolling Solemn sounds the hymn of death : Gone are all his frolic carols, And the sheep-boy listeneth. Yonder to the grave they carry Those who here lived joyously ; Listen, shepherd ; listen, laddie, One day they will chaunt for thee ! HEINE. SONG. 197 HOW CANST THOU SLEEP SO QUIET ? How canst thou sleep so quiet Whilst I in life remain ? The ancient scorn returneth, And then I break my chain. Know'st thou the ancient ditty ? How once a dead man grim At midnight dragged his sweetheart Into the grave with him. Trust me, thou wondrous maiden, Thou fairest of the fair ! I live, and am far stronger Than all the dead men are. HEINE. SONG. OH how fair is the earth, how fair ! The little birds know it too ; Their pinions they lightly raise, And trill their frolicsome lays Aloft in the heavenly blue. 198 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Oh how fair is the earth, how fair ! Tis known to each stream and sea ; They paint on their mirrors bright Garden and city and height, And clouds that over them flee. And poet and painter know it well, By others too 'tis confest, Who paints it not, he singeth, Who sings it not, it ringeth With joy unmixed in the breast. HERDER. CATECHIZMUS. TEACHER. BETHINK you, child, who did these gifts bestow ?- You can do nothing of yourself, you know. CHILD. Why I got them all from my Papa. TEACHER. And he, whence had he them ? CHILD. From Grandpapa. THE TREE IN THE ODENWALD. 199 TEACHER. No, no ; your Grandpapa how did he them secure ? CHILD. Oh, Grandpapa he took them, to be sure ! GOETHE. THE TREE IN THE ODENWALD. THERE stands a tree in the Odenwald With store of green above ; How many thousand times have I Been there with my dear love ! A beauteous bird doth on it sit, And pipes so wondrously, I and my sweetheart list to it Sitting beneath the tree. The bird he sitteth peacefully Upon the topmost spray, And sings away right merrily, Oft as we look his way. The bird he sits upon his nest, His nest in the good green tree: Ah ! sweetheart, have we been so blest, Or is't trp*-e fantnsv ? 200 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And when I back returned to her The tree looked in decay, Another lover stood by her ; Thou hateful dream, away ! Still stands the tree in the Odenwald, In Switzerland am I, Methinks my heart must broken be, So cold the snow doth lie. HERLOSSOHN. THE GRENADIERS. Two grenadiers who were captives ta'en In Russia, were homewards wending, As soon as the German quarters they gain, In sorrow their heads were bending. For there they heard of the enemy's boast, That France was betrayed and forsaken, All conquered or slain was the gallant host, And the Emp'ror the Emperor taken ! The two grenadiers they wept outright, The sad intelligence learning; Quoth the first one, " Oh how sad's my plight ! My old wound how 'tis burning ! " THE GRENADIERS. " My song is sung," quoth the other then, " With thee I'd die how gladly, But wife and child at home remain, They'll fare without me badly." " What is my wife or child to me ? With far greater yearning I'm shaken, E'en let them beg if in want they be, My Emperor, Emperor taken ! " Grant me, comrade, this my prayer: If from this world I'm hurried, My body to France with thee thou'lt bear, In French soil see me buried. " The cross of honour with crimson band Let over my heart be lying, Give me my trusty gun in hand, My good sword round me tying. " As sentry I'll watch and still give ear In the grave whereto ye take me, Till the tramp of the neighing steeds I hear, And the cannons' roaring wake me. " Then rideth my Emperor over my grave, With sabres clanking and rattling, For the fray ready armed I'll spring from my grave, For the Emperor, Emperor battling." HEINE. 202 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE KING IN THULE. THERE was once a king in Thule Faithful unto the grave, And she who loved him truly At death a gold cup gave. 'Twas what he most did treasure, He drained it every bout, His tears flowed without measure Oft as he quaffed thereout. And when he came to die, he Did sum his townships up, All to his heir bequeathed he, But not the golden cup. He sat at banquet royal With all his chivalry, In his lofty hall ancestral Of yon castle by the sea. Stood the old toper yonder, A life-glow quaffed his last, Then in the surges under The sacred goblet cast. THE LEAF. 203 He watched it striking, drinking, Deep plunging in the main, His eyes in death fast sinking, He never quaffed again. GOETHE. THE LEAF. FROM thy branch rudely torn, Poor dead leaf forlorn, Where goest thou ? " I do not know ; My sole support, the oak, The storm in fury broke. On breath capricious borne, Of zephyr or of northern gale I wander to and fro ; From the forest to the plain, From the mountain to the vale, I go where the breezes blow, Without murmur or dismay, Where goes the bloom of the rose And the leaf of the bay." ARNAULT. Tis the greatest blunder in creation To give one a feast and no invitation. GOETHE. 204 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE BROKEN RING. IN a cool and lovely valley A mill wheel turneth round ; My sweetheart she is vanished, Whom dwelling there I found. She plighted me her true love, In token gave a ring ; Her promise she hath broken, And broken is my ring. I would as minstrel wander, And tramp the wide world o'er, And sing my mournful ditties, As I go from door to door. I would as trooper hurry Off to the bloody fight, By the still watch-fire lay me In the bivouac at night. Hear I the mill-wheel turning, I know not what I will, To die I had far rather, Then all again were still. ElCHENDORFE. THE MONK AND THE SHEPHERD. 205 THE MONK AND THE SHEPHERD. MONK. WHY standest thou in silent woe, O shepherd, tell to me ? I bear a wounded heart also, Which draws me unto thee. SHEPHERD. And canst thou ask ? look everywhere On my dear vale and see, The meads are blossomless, and bare Of leaf is every tree. MONK. Oh, weep thou not ! What is thy grief ? What but a heavy dream ! The trees will soon put on their leaf, The mead with blossoms gleam: Whilst stands the cross I kneel before, When verdant all appears, No leaf or bloom, but evermore A dying form it bears. 1 UHLAND. 206 GLEANINGS FROM 7HE GERMAN POETS. EVENING SONG. I STOOD on the mountain summit As the sun began to set, And marked how over the woodland Hung evening's golden net. The clouds, their dew distilling, Cradled the earth to rest, All nature sunk to slumber At the evening bells' behest. I said, " O heart, observe how Silence the world doth hold, And with each child of the meadow Thyself in slumber fold. " Their eyes the little flow'rets Are closing one by one ; The waves of all the brooklets More softly murmur on. ' Now is the wearied sylphid, Concealed the leaves beneath, The dragon-fly in the rushes Dew-laden slumbereth. THE TWO COFFINS. 207 "Within their rose leaves cradled The golden beetles sleep ; In cot and fold are gathered The shepherd and the sheep. " The poised lark in the clover Her dewy nest doth find, And in the wood's recesses Retreat the hart and hind. " Each humble cottage owner Takes his repose therein, In foreign lands the stranger Dreams he is home again. " Now, at this hour of quiet, With yearning I am opprest, That I shall ne'er attain to Where only is my rest." RUCKERT THE TWO COFFINS. Two coffins lone are resting 'Neath the old cathedral's shade ; In one King Ottmar reposes, In the other the bard is laid. 208 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The king, once powerful, sat him High on his father's throne, In his right hand rests the sabre, And on his head the crown. Yet the bard beloved beside The haughty king doth lie ; In his hand still may the people The sacred harp descry. In ruin fall the castles, War notes peal through the land ; Yet never stirreth the sabre There in the dead king's hand. Blossoms and breezes vernal Along the valley fly : The harp of the bard resoundeth In ceaseless melody. T. KERNER. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. ON every evening fare I forth Across the meadow lands, She from her summerhouse peers forth, Hard by the path it stands. WOOD SONG. 209 We never have arranged it so, But that is how the world doth go. I know not how it came to be ; I've kissed her many a day, I ask her not, " Yes," says not she, And never says me " Nay." When lips on lips press willingly, We hinder not, but both agree. The zephyr with the rose doth play, It asks not " Lov'st thou me ? " Cooled by the dew, rose doth not say, " Give, give," continually. We love each other well and true, But neither whispers " I love you." UHLAND. WOOD SONG. THROUGH the forest I walk so brave, No robbers me affright ; A loving heart is all I have ; That wants no wicked wight. What moves, what rustles in the bush ? Is that a murderer's tread ? My sweetheart springs out with a rush, And clips me till I'm dead. UHLAND. 14 210 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE RICHEST PRINCE. EACH their country's wealth and power Vaunting in the highest terms, Many a German Prince was sitting, In the knightly hall of Worms. " Mighty is my land and noble," Quoth the Prince of Saxony, " Silver ore within its mountains Deep in many a mine doth lie." " See my country's rank, profusion," Said-trie Pfalsgraf of the Rhine, " Golden harvests in the valleys, On the mountains priceless wine." " Mighty cities, wealthy convents," Ludwig of Bavaria spake ; " Suffer not my land in treasures Lower rank than yours to take." Then said Eberhard, the bearded, Wiirtemberg's beloved lord, " No large townships has my country, Hills with silver are not stored. WANDERER'S SONG. " Yet it holds one jewel. Roving Through the woods with sleep opprest, I my head in perfect safety In my vassal's lap can rest." Then the Rhenish Prince, the Saxon, The Bavarian, each one owns, " Bearded Count, thou art the richest, Thy land yields thee precious stones." KERNER. WANDERER'S SONG. THE May month it has come, all budding are the trees, Who listeth may stay at home with sorrow if he please : As the clouds go wand'ring across the tented sky, So fixed is my design, in the wide world out will I. My'father, my mother, may God protect you well ! Where my fortune blossoms in the distance, who can tell? So many streets there are where I have never roved, Of wines there are so many that I have never proved. Away then, away ! in the sun's bright morning light, Right across the mountains, down the valleys, out of sight ; 212 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The streamlets they murmur, the trees are rustling all, My heart is like the skylark, and loud with joy doth call. At even to the tavern I turn me thirsty in, Ho, landlord, there ! Ho, landlord ! a bowl of spark- ling wine. Now seize me thy fiddle, thou jolly fiddler, do, A ditty of my sweetheart I'll sing to thee thereto. If I find no shelter, at night then will I sleep 'Neath the quiet heaven, where the stars their vigils keep ; In the wind the linden soft lullaby doth make, The kiss of rosy morning doth greet me wide awake. Oh, roving ! Oh, roving ! of student life the zest ; 'Tis then the breath of God blows so freshly on the breast ; 'Tis then to heaven's canopy sings aloud the heart, How beautiful, thou wide world, how passing fair thou art ! r GOETHE. NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE. WHENCE, poor heart, these agitations ? What is plaguing thee so sore ? What new life, what strange sensations ? Thou art known to me no more. NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE. 213 Gone is all thou once so lovedst, Gone is all for which thou strovest, Gone thy care and thy delight, How didst come in such sad plight ? Doth this lovely form enchain thee, This sweet bloom of youthfulness ? Doth with endless might constrain thee Glance of purest truthfulness ? Should I to rash force betake me, Steel my heart, strive to escape me, All my struggles are in vain, Back to her I must again. With this thread, by magic woven, Which she suffers not to break, Would this maiden, wanton, loving, 'Gainst my will me prisoner make? I must in this magic border Live as her caprice may order ; Ah, how great the change to me : Love, I prithee, set me free ! GOETHE. 214 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. VANITAS, VANITATUM VANITUS. ON nothing have I set my heart, Hurrah ! So in the world I bear my part, Hurrah ! And whoso will be friend of mine Must join with me, and not decline To clink a glass of wine. I set my heart on goods and wealth, Hurrah ! I lost thereby my nerves and health, Hurrah ! The coins they rolled off far and wide, And what with one hand I did hide, In t'other would not bide. On woman next I set my heart, Hurrah ! From them I suffered many a smart, Ah ah ! The false one sought another lord, With the true one I was greatly bored, The best could not afford. V A NIT AS, VANITATUM VANITUS. 21 5 To travel next I did apply, Hurrah ! From house and kindred off did fly, Ah ah! I'm pleased with nothing I have seen, The food was coarse, the bed not clean, None knew what I did mean. On honours next my heart I set, Hurrah ! But lo ! my neighbour more did get, Ah ah! And when I had advanced my name, The folks did look askance, and blame As though I'd hurt their fame. I set my heart on righting then, Hurrah ! And many a battle we did gain, Ah ah! We marched the foeman's country through, Much profit there did not accrue, My leg's loss there I rue. Now I have set my heart on nought, Hurrah ! The whole world to my feet is brought, Ah ah! 216 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. My song and feast to end I'm fain, So every one your glasses drain, Let not a drop remain ! GOETHE. PERFECTLY HAPPY. I SAT with my sweet maid Beneath yon linden's shade, We sat there hand in hand. Of leaves there stirred not one, And softly beamed the sun Down on the quiet land. We silent sat, whilst deep, Deep bliss our souls did steep, Our hearts' beat scarcely heard. What could we have to say Or ask each other ? Nay, We needed not a word. No single thing we lacked, No qualms our spirits racked, All lovely things were nigh. Our eyes did fondly greet, In kisses sweet did meet Our lips spontaneously. UHLAND. SECLUDED. 217 SECLUDED. AH ! now at last I have thee gained, From the wild revel thou art won ; Within my arms thou art enchained, Now art thou mine and mine alone. The only living things are we, In slumber lieth all beside, As in the still depths of the sea, The sea-god with his goddess bride. Those voices rude are banished quite That thy sweet accents ever drowned ; Thy prattle, amorous and light, Is now my own, my sweetest sound. Night's pall upon the earth is thrown, Light glitters not on lake or plain, The glimmer of this lamp alone Lights up our little love-domain. UHLAND. PEASANT RULES. IN summer time a sweetheart seek In garden or in field, For then the days are long enough, And then the nights are mild. 218 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. In winter must the loving bond Be welded fast and tight, You must not stay then in the snow Beneath the cold moonlight. UHLAND. MARGARET AND HANS. SHE. ARE you staring at me still Wheresoe'er you find me ? Prithee, of your eyes take care, Or mayhap you'll blind be. HE. Wert not always peering round Thou would'st never spy me ; Prithee, of thy neck take care, Else 'twill all awry be. UHLAND. SIR OLOF. SIR OLOF rideth far and away To bid the guests to his wedding day. The elves, they dance on the grassy land, Erl-king's daughter doth give him her hand. SIX OLOF. 219 " Ho, welcome, Sir Olof ! why hence dost flee ? Step into the circle and dance with me." " I dare not dance, I must say thee nay ; Early to-morrow's my wedding day." " List, Sir Olof! an' thou'lt foot it with me, Two golden spurs I'll give to thee, " And a silken coat, so white and fine, My mother hath bleached in the pale moonshine. " Now listen, Sir Olof, and dance with me, And a heap of gold I'll give to thee." " A heap of gold an' thou gavest me, I dare not, I will not, dance with thee ! " " And wilt thou, Sir Olof, to dance not deign, Sickness shall follow thy steps, and pain." She dealt him a blow right over his heart, He never before felt such a smart. Him pale upon his horse she bare : " Now get thee home to thy lady fair." And when he reached the castle gate, His mother trembling there did wait. " Now list, come tell me true, my son, Why is thy cheek so pale and wan ? " 220 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. 11 No wonder it doth pale remain, I trespassed on Erl-king's domain." " Now list, my son, so dear and tried, What tidings shall I bear thy bride ? " " Say, to the wood I take my course, To practise there my hound and horse." At early morn, ere scarce 'twas day, There came the bride and her party gay. They poured the mead, they poured the wine ; " Where is Sir Olof, my bridegroom fine ? " " To the wood Sir Olof took his course, To practise there his hound and horse." The bride she raised the curtain red : There lay Sir Olof, and he was dead. SCHILLER. THREE MAIDENS. i. THREE maids in a castle biding Were gazing down the vale, As home their sire came riding, - He wore a coat of mail. THREE MAIDENS. " Now welcome, dear father, welcome ! We all have been good children ; What hast thou brought us home ? " " My child in yellow garments, I thought of thee to-day ; Thy joy is in adornments, Thou lovest bright array. This chain of ruddy gold you see Was from a brave knight taken, And he was slain by me." The chain straightway the maiden Around her neck she botfnd, Then to the spot descending, The dead man there she found. " How like a thief thou liest now, Art knight of proved valour, And my dear love art thou." She in her arms conveyed him In house of God to rest ; In his father's grave she laid him, Deep sorrow in her breast. The chain she wore, the golden chain, It drew them both together : One grave now holds the twain. 222 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. II. Two maids in a castle biding Were gazing down the vale, As home their sire came riding, He wore a coat of mail. " Now welcome, dear father, welcome ! We both have been good children ; What hast thou brought us home ? " " My daughter in green raiment, I thought of thee to-day ; The chase is thy enjoyment By night as well as day. This dirk, with golden band, you see From hunter bold was taken, And he was slain by me." The dirk the maiden taking, Her father's gift, she sped, Her way thro' forests making, Her quarry was the dead. There 'neath a linden's shade she found His trusty hounds beside him Her love in sleep profound. " I promised thee a meeting Beneath this linden tree ; " THREE MAIDENS. 223 Her dirk the maid unsheathing, Into her heart thrust she. They rested coldly side by side, The green leaves fell around them, The birds their carols plied. in. A maid in a castle biding, Was gazing down the vale As home her sire came riding,-^ He wore a coat of mail. " Now welcome, dear father, welcome, I've been good daughter ever ; What hast thou brought me home ? " " My daughter, in white raiment, I thought of thee to-day ; All flowers are thy enjoyment, More than apparel gay. This flower, as silver bright you see, From gardener skilled was taken, And slain was he by me." " Why was he so unheeding ? Him wherefore didst thou slay ? The flowers his care were needing, They'll wither now away. 224 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. He'd give me, so he boldly said, The best flower in his garden, He spared it for his maid." This flower the maiden laying Upon her bosom white, Went through a garden straying Wherein she took delight. A fresh green hillock there she found, Down 'midst the dear white lilies, And sat upon the mound. " Ah, could I now but arm me As my dear sisters twain, This floweret cannot harm me, Too soft it is to pain." The flower she gazed at, sick and wan, Until the floweret withered, Then sunk herself thereon. UHLAND. PRAYER IN BATTLE. FATHER, I cry to Thee : O'er me in clouds rolls the smoke of the battle, Flashing pours round me the fierce lightning's rattle; God of the battle, I cry to Thee ; Father, oh, lead Thou me ! PRA YER IN BA TTLE. 225 Father, oh, lead Thou me ! To victory lead me, in death lay me low, O God, to Thy sovereign commandment I bow ; Lord, as Thou wilt, oh, lead Thou me : God, I acknowledge Thee ! God, I acknowledge Thee ! When the autumnal leaves rustle and rattle, When rageth round me the thunder of battle, Fountain of grace, I acknowledge Thee ! Father, I honour Thee ! Father, oh bless Thou me ! Into Thy hands, Lord, my life I entrust, What Thou didst grant me, to claim it, is just, Living or dying, Lord, bless Thou me ! Father, I honour Thee ! Father, I honour Thee ! Not for the riches of earth the fight rageth, The holiest cause our swords now engageth, Falling or conquering I honour Thee ! God, I submit to Thee ! God, I submit to Thee ! W T hen to me death sends his thunderous greeting, When from my gaping wounds life-blood is fleeting, God, my God, I submit to Thee ! Father, I cry to Thee ! KORNER. 15 226 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. SONG. A YOUNG man loves a maiden, Who chooses another instead ; The other another maid loveth, And with this maiden doth wed. From pique hereupon doth the maiden With the best man engage, The first who crosses her pathway ; This doth the young man enrage. 'Tis a very old-world story, Yet is it always new ; And he, to whom this happens, A broken heart doth rue. HEINE. THE WHITE HART. THREE hunters they took to the wood their way, A certain white hart intending to slay. They laid themselves down' neath a green fir-tree, And the selfsame dream they dreamed all three. THE FIRST. Methought in my dream I beat in the bush, Out came the stag with a bound : hush, hush ! THE DAISY. 227 THE SECOND. And as he fled from the baying hound's fang, I gave him a shot in his hide : bang, bang ! THE THIRD. And when on the ground the dead hart I saw, I merrily blew my horn : tra-ra-ra ! There were they lying and prating all three, When bounding along came the white hart free ; And ere the three hunters had viewed him aright, He was far and away over valley and height : Hush hush ! Tra-ra ! Bang, bang ! UHLAND. THE DAISY. WHAT hath the daisy done, what wrong, That none for it begins a song, Wherein he might in modest lays For once, a humble flow'ret praise ? Take courage, then, for now I'll sing The daisy's praise, poor unpraised thing ! How often in the realm of mind All things not rightly judged we find ; 228 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. At one we " Wonder, wonder," cry, The next we count mere trumpery, Don't even look, we know not why ; That's just the daisy's history. The daisy may our heart rejoice In proper time, like roses choice ; Who values not the daisy, he Shall not sit in our company : So now we sing a daisy song, Who likes it not may hold his tongue. All of you well and clearly know How deep is February's snow ; Yet sets a thaw once fairly in, Soon may the daisy there be seen ; Thus e'en in winter's strife you see A foregleam of Spring's victory. Soon as these early signs I spy, My very heart goes bounding high, And all dead things before my eyes To resurrection life arise ; And Death cries out in friendly guise, " In morning sleep my kingdom lies." Oft have I, too, in Autumn seen, When sleeping rest the leaves once green, GRAVE SONG. 229 The daisy blooming free from care, As though life's morning still were fair. little flower, God grant to me My autumn like thine own may be ! 1 pity much his wretched lot Whose heart in this rejoiceth not ; In little things who naught can see, In greater may mistaken be ; So teach us all thy worth and power, Thou little, modest, daisy flower ! G. W. FINK. GRAVE SONG. BLEST are the dead who so peacefully slumber ; From burdens oppressive, and cares that encumber, From the yoke of the world and from tyranny, The grave, the grave alone setteth free, The grave alone setteth free. Over the earth hover aye pain and sorrow, In -its bosom alone they may not us follow ; O Death-night, softly thou cradlest all ; The grave, the grave alone levels all, The grave alone levels all. 230 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. Once more to meet and embrace the departed, Once more to warm ourselves 'gainst the true-hearted,. And always to dwell in sweet unison bound ; The grave, the grave makes joy to abound, The grave makes joy to abound. O land of promise ! thou leadest the wayspent From tempests' fierce howling to blessed content- ment ; When joy disappeareth, when all hope is past y The grave, the grave holds the anchor fast, The grave holds the anchor fast. Crown ye the portals of death with green branches, Encircle the grave with your frolicsome dances, Into the haven with courage steer straight ; The grave, the grave shall be victory's gate, The grave shall be victory's gate. MAHLMANN. TO HIM. ALLAH gives light in darkness, Allah gives hope in pain, To cheeks sorrow-blanched restores Their pristine bloom again. WAR SONG AGAINST THE FRENCH. 231 Flowers and blossoms wither, The years beat a quick retreat, But ah ! my heart yet lingers, My heart with painful beat. Gladly to Allah's dwelling, Gladly I'd pass from here ; There will the darkness vanish, There will mine eyes see clear. MAHLMANN. OH that it were according to my will ! My eyes straightway with tears do fill ! GOETHE. WAR SONG AGAINST THE FRENCH. SHOULD the whirlwind of battle burst o'er us again, And the Gaul once more covet our land, My Germany, gather with might and with main, Bring the guerdon of blood in thy hand ; Let terror attend, and dismay in thy train, From hill and from valley, from mountain and plain, And shout to the Rhine, cross the Rhine, ho ! advance ! All Germany forward to France ! 232 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN PO'ETS. They choose it : then German forbearance away ! Break thy bonds from the Rhine to the Sound ; The debt so long owing, we'll soon make them pay, Up, Frenchmen ! the foe's on the ground. To the music of sabres and music of lances, We'll lead them the wildest and bloodiest dances, And shout to the Rhine, cross the Rhine, ho ! advance ! All Germany, forward ! to France. My brave Fatherland, my own one, to the van ! We'll sing them a song whose refrain Shall tell how they won by a treacherous plan Fair Strasburg, and Metz, and Lorraine ; They shall forth from the land, they shall give up their prey, Our life and our death we will stake on the fray, Then shout to the Rhine, cross the Rhine, ho ! advance ! All Germany, forward ! to France. My own Fatherland, my free one, to the van ! They must and they will have our land ; Up, gather thy might, arise as one man, Bring the guerdon of blood in thy hand ! Burst thou whom their treachery never can sunder ! Break o'er them as hurricane leaps from the thunder ! And shout to the Rhine, cross the Rhine, ho ! advance ! All Germany, forward ! to France. ARNDT. ETERNITY. 233 ETERNITY. ETERNITY, Eternity ! How long art thou, Eternity ? Yet swift to thee doth haste our day As speeds the war-horse to the fray, The ship to port, the messenger home sent, The shaft from bow by archer bent. Eternity, Eternity ! How long art thou, Eternity ? As in a body that is round, Beginning ne'er or end is found ; Just so, Eternity, in thee Ingress nor egress we see. Eternity, Eternity ! How long art thou, Eternity ? A circle art thou, limitless, Thy centre doth all tune express, And " never " thy periphery, Because of thee no end can be. Eternity, Eternity ! How long art thou, Eternity ? Suppose a bird were in its beak The whole world grain by grain to take, 234 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. One every thousand years till done, Ere thou wert, would the world be gone. Eternity, Eternity I How long art thou, Eternity ? If in thee every thousandth year An eye let fall a little tear, The water would such bulk attain, Not earth or heaven could it contain. Eternity, Eternity ! How long art thou, Eternity ? The sea sand and the sea drops are But fractions of thy integer : To measure thee can none attain, To reckon thee is all in vain. Eternity, eternity ! How long art thou, eternity ? Hear, man : so long as God doth reign, So long shall last Gehenna's pain, So long the joys of heaven shall flow, Oh lasting joy, oh lasting woe 1 THE NUN. 235 THE NUN. IN the still cloister garden A maid walked, pale and young, The moon shone dim above, On her eyelashes hung The tears of tender love. Oh well for me my lover, My true love, dead should be \ I may again him love, An angel now is he, An angel I may love. Up to the Virgin's image With trembling steps went she, Bright light upon it shone, It gazed down motherly Upon the sainted one. She at its feet then sinking Gazed up with heavenly rest, Until her eyelids fell With sleep of death opprest, Then fluttered down her veil. UHLAND. 236 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. THE WREATH. A MAIDEN flowers many-hued Was plucking in the meadows bright, A woman issued from a wood Most beauteous to the sight. She met the maid with friendly mien, And twined a garland in her hair ; " Twill bloom, though now no bloom is seen, Oh wear it ever there ! " And as the maiden grew in years, And wandered 'neath the moonlight-flood, Whilst soft and tender flowed her tears, The wreath began to bud. And when her loving bridegroom cast His arms around her ardently, The swelling buds burst forth at last, And blossomed joyously. And when a lovely child one day Was cradled on its mother's breast, The foliage then appeared straightway With golden fruitage drest. TRUE WALTER. 237 And when in dust and night the grave Had closed around her lover true, Amidst her tangled hair did wave A leaf of Autumn-hue. And when death pale she sank therein, Her precious garland still she wore ; Behold ! a wonder ! then 'twas seen Both fruit and bloom it bore. UHLAND. TRUE WALTER. THE trusty Walter rode one day Our Lady Chapel by ; A maid did on the threshold pray, And prayed remorsefully. " Stop, stop, I prithee, Walter dear ! The voice you once so loved to hear, Do you no longer know it ? " " Whom see I here ? the faithless maid, Ah once, ah once, my own ; Why art not still in silk arrayed, In gold and precious stone ? " " Why did I from my true love stray ? My Paradise has flown away, With thee alone I find it." 238 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. The fair one on his horse he placed, And pity soft did own, And round his body closely prest Her lily arms were thrown. " Oh Walter dear, my heart I feel Is beating 'gainst cold rigid steel, 'Gainst thine it is not beating." To Walter's castle they did ride, A castle still and lone ; The rider's helmet she undid, His beauty's bloom was gone. " Though sad thine eyes, thy cheeks though pale, Yet, sweetheart, this becomes thee well, Thou ne'er didst look so comely." His arms the duteous maid unbraced Of him she sad had made ; " Ah what is this ; in black art dressed ? Is one you love then dead ? " " My best beloved I mourn for sore, Whom I may find on earth no more, Beyond the grave not ever." With arms extended wide the maid Then fell down at his feet ; THE SHEPHERD'S WINTER SONG. 239 " Here as a penitent I'm laid, For pity I entreat. Oh raise me to new bliss and zest, Oh let me on thy faithful breast Be quit of all my sorrow." " Rise up, poor child, from off the ground ; I cannot help ; alas ! These arms of mine are closely bound, No life my bosom has. As I am, be thou ever sad, All love is gone, all love is fled ; To come again ah ! never." UHLAND. THE SHEPHERD'S WINTER SONG. O WINTER, horrid Winter ! The world is then so small : Thou pressest into the valleys And narrow cottages all. The road if I cross over Where dwells my sweetheart dear, Scarcely out of the window Does her darling head appear. 40 GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN POETS. And if I should pluck up courage Her house to enter in, She sits between father and mother And scarcely raises her een. O Summer, beauteous Summer ! The world is then so wide ; The prospect extends the farther, As we climb the mountain side. On the mountain top art standing ? Then I call to thee, sweetheart dear ! The caverns prolong the echo, But none, as thou dost, gives ear. Do I press thee to my bosom Upon the hill-top free ? We gaze on the distant country, And seen by no one are we. UHLAND. "MY HEART, I HAVE A QUESTION." " MY heart, I have a question : What's love ? Pray answer it." " Two souls, one thought between them ; Two hearts, one single beat."