»■■..• ■'.—.*.■*-,«.-•.— -..-. mm THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES '0 . '•■■< ^s> FLOWERS OF GERMAN POETRY Till: LINKS WITHIN Tills BOOK WERE TRACED Fob Friendship's eye alone ; Which TO THE VERIEST trifle rives A VALUE NOT lis OWN." FLOWERS OF GERMAN POETRY TRANSLATED BY FRANCES HARRIOTT MILKS PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCLXX FT MfeO E5Fi P R E F A C E Some of the Poems in this little volume arc trans- lations from German Poets; others are founded on ideas taken from the same sources, but so freely rendered that they can scarcely be called transla- tions. The whole are so very unpretentious, that it is hoped they will be kindly received, and en- tirely disarm criticism. They have already served one especial purpose — that of giving recreation and employment during iii.i 11 y vacant hours. F. H. M. FlRBECK Hail. 1 ^7n. C IN T E N T S. lA'.l. TO , 1 ill 1 : FALCON, ...... 3 i HE LTJRLEI, ...... ."■ SONG, ....... 7 i" ll l . l : eye, ...... 9 THE EYE, ...... 11 us- HOPE, ...... 12 THE SEB1 n U)E, ..... 13 THOU TOTT'BING BRIDGE, OH BEEAK NOT DOWN, 11 WHAT BAYS THE Wll.n WAVE ON THE BHOEE ? 14 ill l : INIHAN DEATH-DIBGK, .... 15 i Hi'. GB wi: OE a i \\:\< , 18 BONG, .... i snn.il— i BEE i QBE FROM AFAB, . •21 ill 1 : OBGAN, ...... 22 I'HK RICHEST PBINCE, .... 23 LIKE TO A LOVELY FBAGBANT FLOWER, 25 llli: TWO GRENADIERS, .... 26 i" , ...... 28 BONG, ....... 29 HOPE, ...... CONTENTS. VII I'lIK I>K\I> SOLDIER, . JOHN OF BOHEMIA (CRESSY), THE REVENGE OF I III: l'l OWERS, AFTER I III'. GERMAN, . THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBCRG, Tin: nun, THE WANDERER'S RETURN, . AFTER Till-; GERMAN, rill'. OLD man's REFLECTION, HOMELESS, in EMMA, SONG, . YEARNING, BOPB, riii: boy by Tin: BROOK, l ill. PILGRIM OF ST JUST, ON A child's EYE, THE WINCHES! I'.l; iiin I . Tin: hostess' DAUGHT1 K. " ALAs ! FOB ME BLOOMS NONE,' THE ERL KING, FRAGMENT, THE old MAN, A l LSI WISH, Tin: LINDEN-TREE, l EONORA, ITU. M MIiI'.n's I AM! \ I. \ PRAYER DURING BA1 n.r. in I. GOLDSMITH'S I' \it.iiti R, ■■ w l MB! EM Mil l "I ME," ON \ LAI E-Fl OW1 RING H"\ I ' :il 33 36 4<» 41 15 4(5 18 I" SI 52 53 '<■> .".7 60 63 .;:, 67 68 7" 71 7:: 71 7-; 7^ 82 >7 VIII I. VI - I III I \Vn Q| II S , . , ill MAIDEN'fi l \mi n l, i in FORSAKEN, PRAN8LATION, i ill G s \ i i RED M IN, PATRIOT IC RHIN1 SONG, \ili \l. FROM EAST PRUSSIA DATION IN 1844-45, I in DYING "NH. A REVERIE, llll 0A8TLE BY THE >l \. THE BLIND KINO, RT7BEZAHL, THE SAILOR'S sunt;, . niMR BOON TO BONN ! COME — DO ! DO ! ' DO ' ' ' 100 108 107 108 108 111 115 119 120 FLOWERS OF GERMAN POETRY. TO For thee a wreath I fain would weave, Of lovely blossoms rich and rare; Such flowers as in poetic fields Unfading bloom, so fresh and fair. Yet, ah ! to me it is denied My own poetic flowers to pull ; Condemned to seek on foreign soil, The nosegay which for thee I cull. Then take it hence; the flowers were plucked On Khcinland's green and friendly shore ; Nor cherish it, nor love it less. Because it freshly blooms do more. To It may do! breathe so .~\\ eel a scent Since I bave plucked, and made ii mine Yei still I'll trust it will to thee Of swee1 remembrance be the sign. We love a leaf, e'en though 'tis faded, If gathered on some favourite spot; Then take the offered wreath I scud thee : ( Hi take it — and forget me not. THE FALCON. Wolfgang MillU r My noble bird, my noble bird, Whose pinions never fail, My message take, my message take, Far, far o'er hill and dale. A poet speaks, a poet speaks ; Serene the air shall be, And spring's soft breath and sunny beams Shall go along with thee. Seek thou the east, the banks of Rhine, Thither direct thy wing, And erecting to a constant heart, From one who loves her, bring. At a high window she'll be found, 'Mid myrtle blossoms bright, I ill. FALCON, For <>li she gazes towards the west, I iii] > ; 1 1 lent for t by Bight Tel] her that though I happy seem, And join in dance and song, .My thoughts each moment, as they How. To her alone belong. Then haste, my bird, my noble bird, Whose pinions never fail, And say her thus, " I love but thee/' But thee, o'er hill and dale. THE LURLEL ll< im . I know not what it can portend, That I such sorrow feci ! Or why, unbidden, legends old Thus o'er my senses steal. 'Tis evening, and the air is cool, And peaceful Hows the Rhine, And, tinted by the summer's sun. Its rocky summits shine. And there she sits, that wondrous maid, How beautiful, how fair ! She's decked with pearls and sparkling stom And combs her golden hair. She combs it. with a golden Comb, The while ;i SOnfi she BUlgS | THE l.i RLE1. Bewitching i thai melody, Ami far its echo rings. It seizes with ;i magic <|i;illn The boatman as he steers ; Jle sees QOt, heeds Hot. rOCEy reefs Tlie song alone he hears. And where are now the man and boat? The waves their prey have won ; And this with her enehanting song 'Hie Lnrlei maid lias done. SONG. H". Mnlbr And what avails the rose's seent, And what the lily's bloom 1 They both must, when the winter nears, Partake one common doom. And what avails that in the air The birds their notes prolong '. The spring is past — a bygone dream— And vanished is the song. For death, our lot, Spares beauty not ; To him all things belong. '■-> And what avails the dream of love, AYith all its boasted treasures '. Dissolved long since its fancied joys, And vanished all its pleasures. I >NG. A ] i < I wli.ii avails the oft-told tale The lips of love have -worn j For love is as a nightly dream, Dispelled when breaks the morn K«»r death, our lot, Spares beauty not ; 'Tis vain his power to scorn. TO HER EYE. I know a lovely fountain, As clear as heaven's dew, With sparkling sunbeams playing Upon its mirror blue : It bids to joy and gladness, With looks so clear and bright. And pours from out its sources The softest, gentlest light. It seemed as if that fountain, So bright, so pure, so clear. Could heal a spirit broken, Of all its anxious fear. I plunged with haste ami pleasure In that blue limpid wave ; AJas ! my heart was ruincd- That source became its grave. Hauff. 10 ro lli;i: BYE. Know'st t Ikmi t In- \>>\ ely Fountain, So clear and silver-white ' Know'st thou the 3iinbeame playing I '|>on its surface bright I It is my love's eye beaming (So Bweet the look she wore), That vainly, vainly -tni'j'jliirj. I rise to light ii" more. 11 THE EYE. Schillt r. Know'nt thou that picture so tenderly grounded, Full of expression, and splendour, and light, Which varies and changes with each changing hour. Yet ever is lovely, and sparkling, and bright ? In the narrowest space is that picture contained, And the smallest of frames forms its girth : And yet through this picture thou scest alone All that can charm or affect thee on earth. Canst name me that crystal so pure and so white To which neither jewel nor gem can compare ' It burns not, but beams with s<> softened ;i Light, Absorbing, reflecting the universe there For the hues of the heavens, with all they contain, Arc seen in its lovely and wondrous ring: Yet more lovely the beams which, streaming, go fort h, Than all that thf powers of the heavens can bring. 12 ON HOPE. St // iller. And much do men dream, and much do they speak, Of a better and happier day : The Future they chase in a wild restless course, While the Present is passing away. As the world now grows old, and again becomes young, Still on hopes of improvement our wishes are hung. Hope plays round the infant just entering life, And Hope sports with the frolicsome boy ; With her powerful charm she encircles the youth — Even age can partake of her joy ; For if, weary of life, it seeks rest in the grave, Lo ! spreading above it see Hope's banners wave. Nor is it an empty and flattering dream. From the brain of a foolish one drawn ; Oh no! in the heart it is loudly proclaimed. That for something that's better we're born. And that voice from within, oh, ever believe ; For the hope of the soul, it will never deceive. 13 THE SERENADE. UJUand. " And who has thus my slumbers broken With minstrel-strains so sweet? Oh, mother dear — say who comes here So late, thy child to greet ''-. " " Sleep on, my child ; I nothing see But thy blue eye so mild : 1 nothing hear — no sound is near ; Sleep on, my suffering child." "No earthly music meets my ear, No earthly form my sight ; To distant halls an angel calls ; ( )h, mother dear ( rood-night." 1 1 Uhland. Thou tottering bridge, oh break ao1 down. Nor fall, ye rocks, that tlire;il 'niii'j' l« -;i 1 1 , Nor heaven nor earth be overthrown, Till I my love again have seen. K. Ji. Til "in What says the wild wave on the shore ' " How short our life — how soon 'tis o'er ' " Replies the next, as on it flows. " If short our joys, so are our woes." THE INDIAN DEATH-DIRGE. Schiller, See where he sits upon his mat, As upright as before ; The same demeanour bears he now, Which when in life lie bore But where is now the strength of hand '. And where the power to breathe ? And where the heaving chest that scut So late the smoky wreath '. And where the falcon eye, so keen The deer-track to pursue, Counting its step o'er wavy grass, And plains bedecked with dew \ Are these the active limbs which once So quick flew o'er tin- snow. i hi: im»i \\ DEATH- DIROE. Fleeter than stag before the wind ■ Swifter than mountain-roe '. Arc these the arms, bo strong and straight, Which bent the plianl bow ? A his ! alas ! of life bereft, How helpless bang they now ! Peace to his shade ! the warrior's gone Where falls no winter's snow ; Where, blooming on the hunting-fields. Unsown, the maize-plants grow : Where birds are found in every tree, And deer in every brake, And with the sportive finny tribe Well stored is every lake. With heroes brave, lo ! now he feasts ; He's left us here alone, His warlike deeds on earth to praise, His absence to bemoan. Bring here then, quick, the last, last gifts, And sound the death-cry shrill, For we will all inter with him That can give pleasure still. THE INDIAN DEATH-DIRGE. Place underneath his head the axe He used with arm so strong ; And bear's flesh bring, a feast to make The way he goes is long. The knife, too, bring, and grind it fresh, Which from the lifeless clay. So quick, with trifold, skilful touch, Conveyed the seal}) away. And colour bring, his skin to paint, And place it in his hand, For 'mong the spirits, brightly red, The hero ought to stand. 18 THE GRAVE <>F ALARIC. Piatt a. 'Tis night, and on Bucento's shores A whispered song is heard. Out of its depths the answer sounds, The waves take up the word. Quick from above, and from beneath, The Gothic spirits pour ; They weep for their redoubted chief, Alaric, now no more. Far, far from home must here his grave. His early grave, be made, While yet his youthful golden locks Upon his shoulders played. And on Bucento's verdant shore, Prepared to work, they stood ; THE GRAVE OF ALARIC. 19 The task is done, ;i new-formed bed Received the river's n 1. And in the waveless, empty space, Where erst Bncento rolled, They sink, with steed, and armour on, That hero once so bold. With earth they silent overspread The warrior as he lies. So that the mighty Mowing stream Mio'ht o'er his relies rise. To work a second time they go, The river's course to turn, And, lolling to their ancient bed, Bucento's waves return. And now a choir of voices rose, " Rest, hero, sleep in honour ; No Roman arm, no Roman power, Shall e'er thy grave dishonour." And loudly through the Gothic hosl The song of praise resounds ; Roll on. ye waves, from sea to sea, And spread the echoing sounds. 20 SONG. Miilh And I will love thee ever, E'en as a brilliant dream, ( >r as the hues of heaven, Which on th' horizon gleam. Within my heart thine image Is like yon cloud on high, Which, with the soft wind playing, So gently passes by. To think on thee refreshes, Like perfumed roses rare. Whose scent, -when evening closes, Pervades the heated air. ( )f thee to speak resembles A sweet and touching song, so.\(;. 21 Which distant echoes catching, The sounding notes prolong. And I will love thee ever E'en as a brilliant dream, Or as the hues of heaven, Which on th' horizon erleam. Tli. Storm. Enough — 1 sec thee from afar, And gaze <>n thee as in a dream ; Thou art so young, thou an so fair, So softly bright thine eye doth beam, While I am friendless and forlorn. And ne'er can win thee for my own. < Mi that I were ;i monarch born, And thou -forsaken and alone ! 22 THE ORGAN. Vfdand. Yet once again, kind neighbour, .sound The organ in mine ear ; Perchance its full and deep-toned note My troubled heart may cheer. The sick one prayed, the neighbour played As he ne'er played before ; So grand, so glorious came the not* -. His touch he knew no more. And now a strange and solemn song He tremblingly did play ; But soon he paused — for as he played, Her spirit passed away. 23 THE RICHEST PRINCE. J. Kerner Discussing with what wealth and strength Their countries each abound, At Worms the German princes sat Their emperor's board around. "My country," said the Saxon King, " Is splendid in its strength : Its silver mines, in mountain depths, Are found through all its length." Then spake th' Elector, — "See my land. Its richness on the Rhine ; The golden corn, the vine-clad hills, Where grows the sparkling wine." "My country," cried Bavaria's lord, " Is not behind in pride ; 2 I Till. RICHE8T PRINCE. lis wealthy cities, splendid Bhrines, Arc known I >* » t h far and wide. Then spake the bearded Eberhardt, Of Wurtembere the king : •• My country and my towns arc small, Nor can I jewels bring ; " But it enfolds a hidden gem ; Though large my forests be, I yet can fearless lay my head On every subject's knee." Uprose and spoke the princes three, And loudly did declare, '• You are the richest, Wurtemberg ; Your land has jewels rare." 25 Like to a lovely fragrant flower, So sweet, so pure, so fair thou art ; I gaze, and sadness, as I gaze, Comes gently stealing o'er my heart. It seems as if upon thy head I must my hand in blessing lay, And pray that God will keep thee pure. And ever guide thee in His way. //. im 26 THE TWO GRENADIERS. //' lie . Two grenadiers towards France return. Imprisoned long in Russia, And sadly each did hang bis head, When near they came to Prussia. For there they heard the sad sad news That France was overthrown — The army scattered, once so proud, Their Chieftain left alone. Together wept the grenadiers In sorrow at the news : Said one, " How sad to me to hear ! It all my pain renews." The other cried, " The play is played, I too with thee would die : But I have wife and child at home, On me they both rely." THE TWO GRENADIERS. " What matters wife ! whal matters child ! A higher aim have I : If they are hungry, let them beg. Imprisoned He doth lie. "A last request, oh promise me, Dear comrade, ere I die ; Take me along with you to France, In France's soil to lie. " My cross and ribbon red thou'lt lay Upon my heart to bide ; My musket in my hand thou'lt place. My sw T ord upon my side. " So will I lie and listen still, A sentry for the camp. Until I hear the cannon roar, And neighing horses tramp. " And should my Emperor o'er my grave With glitt'rillg weapons ride I, fully armed, will then step forth, And place mc by Ins side." 28 TO I know an eye, whose glancing beam Speaks more than Language to the heart, Where ever-springing love is seen. Ready to cheer, and joy t' impart. Full oft have 1 its power felt, And learned to know each glance so clear For near that eye I long have dwelt. And to my heart it is most dear. I know a heart so good and kind. So full of tender thoughts for me ; Where kindred virtues, firmly twined. Seem, though on earth, at rest to be. Full oft have I its influence felt, When grief and sadness hovered near; For near that heart 1 long have dwelt. And to mine own it is most dear. 29 s N G. //. rloszsohn. When the swallow seeks its home, When the roses cease to bloom, When no nightingale we see, And forgot her melody, Asks the heart in anxious fear, " Shall we ever meet again '. Parting — yes, parting is pain." When the snow-white swan removes To the scented citron groves, When the last faint evening beams Through the dark-green foliage gleams, Asks the heart in anxious fear, "Shall we ever meet again '. Parting yes. parting is pain.'" Why complain or anxious be '. Rest there also is for thee ; 30 HOPE. Thai on earth which must decaj . Renews Itself anol her day. Ash then QOt in anxious fear, Trust that we shall meel again, Though, alas! to part is pain. HOPE. Oh Hope, thou sweet consoler, Hopi ! That cheerest man when all forsake him Tis thou alone hast power to calm him, When all abandon, all mistake him. Of honours, friends, possessions, peace, Misfortune may of all deprive us ; With Hope our friend, our sorrows cease, For vengeful fortune cannot harm us. Oh Hope, thou sweet consoler, Hope ! That cheerest man when all forsake him 'Tis thou alone hast power to soothe, When all abandon, all desert him. 31 THE DEAD SOLDTEI!. Si nil. Upon a distant foreign field A lifeless soldier lay, I'nknown, unmarked, amid the slain. Though well he fought that day. The conquering chiefs ride slowly by, The badge and cross they wear; They heed that lowly soldier not, Though worthy he to share And many a deep lament is heard For friend and kinsman dear ; No mourner seeks that soldier's form. For him nor wail nor tear. And yet there is a distanl home, And friends who watchful wait. A father cries, " Why com'sl thou not I Why tarriesl I bou so late '. " THE DEAD HOLDIER. Near him. in tears, a mol her ail 3, Ami sobs and cries, " I [elp, I [eaveu ! The clock has stopped* a sign he's bere- It points tin 1 hour eleven. It was a triple group ; and now Upstarts a gentle maid : She wept, and, shudd'ring, pressed her heart- " Thou livest here," she said. Sad tears were shed by all the three, And straight to heaven they rose, Affection's witness to his worth, Whose limbs in death repose. And heaven received, and in a cloud Exhaled those precious tears : Conveyed them to the distant field, Where death his banner rears. And from the clouds those holy drops Sink softly on his brow ; He lies a gallant soldier there. Unmourned no longer now. * A superstition currenl among the peasantry. 33 .JOHN OF BOHEMIA (CRESSY). W. Miillei And hotly raged the bloody fight On Cressy's fatal plain ; Fierce in hatred, strong in might, The hostile armies came. And blind King John his men has brought, To aid the French intent ; Full many a time he's with them fought, Now rests he in his tent. But, hark ! how loud the trumpets sound ! The fearful strife's began ; The leaders shout, the horses bound, Upstarts that fine old man. "And though I am both old and blind, Some vigour still I feel ; My fiery blood, my daring mind, This battle shall reveal, c 34 JOHN OF BOHEMIA (ORESSY). ■■ Bring me my arms, my sword and shield My squires are bere, I ween — Ami quickly chain my noble horse Their powerful steeds between, And let us liciici — the armies meet, Their arrows swiftly fly, My ear shall guide my horse's feet, Theirs will obey the eye." And there they stand before the tent, The three, chained side by side ; And to the field, with lances bent. How quick those horsemen ride ! The King, that noble blind old man, Majestic rode between : His squires, with youthful joy, began Of knightly deeds to dream. And where the battle fiercest raged. Their mighty swords are felt. And bloody tokens strew the path Where'er their blows are dealt. But soon they fall, those spirits bold, And see their eyes grow dim ; lie lies, like winter, white and cold. And They like spring with him. JOHN OF BOHEMIA (oRESSY). 3n "Farewell ! ye earth and heavens so briffhl ; Your wailings, comrades, cease- ire bravely die in open fight, And gain eternal peace." Brave spirits, go! your wreath well weave, Your deeds shall live in story With heroes' deaths ; the crowns receive ( )f deathless peace and glory. ::., THE REVENGE OF THE FLOWERS. Freiligrath Ox a pillowed couch, reposing, Kests a maiden sunk in sleep ; Softly closed her silken lashes, Softly glows her downy cheek. Shining on yon rushy chair, See a chalice, richly chased ; Lovely blossoms, freshly gathered, Sweetly scented, in it placed. Slowly has a moistened vapour Through the darkened chamber spread ; The casement's closed, and freshness flies Where summer's sun its beam has shed. Now all is hushed, and silence reigns — O List ! soft breathings faint and low, THE REVENGE OF THE FLOWERS. 37 Whispered murmurings, gentle chantings, From the gathered blossoms flow. From their scented beds escaping, See the airy forms advance ; Crowns and shields they bear, as waking, Clad in misty robes they dance. From the Rose's lovely bosom Straight a lady steps to view, Loose her tresses, sweeping, waving, Decked with pearls like morning dew. From the haughty Helmet Flower, Shaded by its foliage green, Steps forth a knight both brave and bold ; Lo ! how bright his sword is seen ! ( >n his helmet, proudly nodding, Waves the heron's feather pale : From the Lily glides a maiden, Thin as gossamer her veil. From the Tulip's gaudy Bower ( lomes a negro, quick advancing ; The glowing crescent <>n his turban, Lightly placed, is brightly glancing. 38 THE REVENGE 01 THE FLOWERS. From th' [mperial ( town a figure, Sceptered Bteps, of noble bearing ; Swiftly follows from i tie [ris, A stately train, their sabres wearing. From the Narcisse steps a boy, Mournful grief his look expree Tlie couch he seeks, and tender kisses On the maiden's mouth lie presses. Towards the bed, now wildly bounding, See the spectres form a ring ; Round the sleeping maiden circling, Slowly chanting, thus they sing : — " Ruthless maiden ! from the earth Thou in thoughtless pride hast torn us, And, placed within this cup to die, Hast hither without pity borne us. " Oh how happy bloomed we there. On our mother's cherished breast ! Evening sunbeams, softly glowing, Kissed our joyous buds to rest. By gentle spring's sweet zephyrs bent, Our trembling heads on earth we laid. THE REVENGE OF THE FLOWERS. 39 And then, from leafy beds escaping, We, at night, like fairies played. " Nourished there by dews and showers, We now in vain for freshness sigh : Quick we fade; but, maid, our vengeance Thou shalt feel ere yet we die." Hushed the sung, and sec they hover O'er the young expiring sleeper ; Again are heard the whispered breathings, 'Mid solemn silence, deep and deeper. What a train the sprites are wreathing ! How the maiden's cheek is glowing ! They're niton their victim breathing- Misty vapours o'er her throwing. But morn returns before the sun. Quick the hand of fairies Hies ; Slumb'ring on the silken cushion, Dead that beauteous maiden lies. A lovely, faded flow'ret there, Softly tinge. 1 her cheek in death : She pests amen- the faded Hewers. Withered, killed by blossom's breath. 40 AFTER THE GERMAN. U lib i ml. Oh lay me not in that dark grave, Nor under that cold sod ; Not there could rest my free-born breast, While waiting for my God. Deep tombed 'mid herbs and flowers I'd lie, With music hovering near ; Above me high let spring-clouds fly. In heaven's blue vault so clear. 41 THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG. Schiller. " Sir Knight, in faithful sister's love. Within this heart you live ; ( Mi ask me not for other love ! No other can I give. When with you tranquil I would be, I'd tranquil see you go ; The meaning of that silent tear T must not, dare not know." Speechless he hears his doom of woe — His faithful heart must bleed : He closely clasped her in his anus. And sprang upon his steed. He gathers quick his trusty men, His Switzers bold and brave ; Upon their breasts the cross they bind, And seek the Holy Grave. 42 THE KNIGHT OP TOGGENBURG. < M Kohl and daring deeds of fame That hero's arm may boasl : His nodding plume was ever seen Where thickest thronged the host, l r ntil th' affrighted Paynims sin-ink At that redoubted uame ; I Jut to his grieved and brokeu heart No ray of comfort came. Twelve moons have passed, and still he's there- No longer can lie stay ; For peace he sought — no peace he finds. He tears himself away : And soon he sees, with sails all set, A ship on Joppa's strand ; To breathe the air his loved one breathes. He seeks his native land. And now. disguised in pilgrim's dr< --. Her castle walls before. He loudly for admittance knocks — The porter opes the door. " She whom you seek now wears the veil ; She is the bride of Heaven : (iraccd by the Church's pomp and power. Her vows to God are given/' THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBUKG 43 Proud stands the castle of his rare ; He leaves it — bids adieu — - Sees not again his gallant steed, Nor falchion, tried ami true. Descending from the rocky heighl To where the valley lay, His knightly form in sackcloth girt, Unknown, he wends his way. He built himself a lonely cell, A silent spot he chose, Where, tow'ring midst the dusky limes, The convent's walls arose. And there, from morning's early dawn Till evening's sun had shone, Eope— silent hope — within his eye. He patient sat — alone. His looks were to the convent turned, Unwearied, from below ; Still towards the casement of bis love, Until it opened slow ; Till her loved form he sees appear — That form and face so lair- As. glancing o'er the vale beneath, She looks an angel there. II THE KNicilT OF TOGGENBUBG. And then be joyfully \\ ithdrew, And Laid bim d<>\\ u to rest^ Still longing for the early dawn, When he'd again be blest. And thus, for many a day and year. He .sat alone and hoped ; He heaved qo sigh, he shed no tear, For still thai casement oped. Still her loved form he sees appear — That form and faee so fair — As, glancing on the vale beneath, She looks an angel there. And thus he sat, of life bereft, As morning once returned ; Still towards the casement of his love That face in deatli was turned. 45 THE NUN. UMand. Jn that quiet convent garden A sister walks so pale ; The moon shines mournful from above, Her tearful eyelid tells a tale, A tale of sorrowing love. " Oh ! well it is that he is dead, That one so true to me ; Sinless, I may his memory love, For now a holy angel he— And angels I may love." She fait ring stepped, with trembling haste, To Mary's sacred shrine ; The image stood in splendour bright, Stood beaming with a love divine, The pure one in its sight. She gently at its feet sank down. Her glance spoke heavenly rest : She closed in death her weary eyes, And stilled in death her anxious breasl : O'er her, her white veil Lies. 40 THE WANDERER'S RETURN. Vogl Towards his home he returns, his staff in his hand : Full long has he wandered, and distant the laud ; His face is embrowned, and he's covered with dust ; To greet the poor stranger— say— who shall he first. He reaches the barrier, enters the town ; See close by its portal the keeper sits down. At the sight of that face, his delight who shall toll '. Tis a friend of his youth lie remembers full well. But, alas! that old friend knows the wanderer not. For burnt are his cheeks, and his features forgot. Their greeting was short, and quick onward he goes, And the dust, as lie walks, he shakes from his shoes. Near a casement he halts, his long-loved one is ther< "Oh, welcome, dear maiden! how welcome, bowfair!" THE WANDERERS RETURN. 47 Id vain the appeal, for tli.it eye knows him not — So burnt are his cheeks, and his features forgot. Slow and sad he moves on, a kind greeting to seek; Dim and moist is his eye, a tear rests on his cheek. But who now approaches, and totters this way? 'Tis his Mother. "God bless thee!'" was all he need say. She hears him, she sees him, she sinks on his breast ; " My son ! oh, my son ! now my hearl is at rest ! " More embrowned must he be,and the sun be more hot. Ere the child by the mother be recognised Dot. 48 AFTER THE GERMAN. Uhland. To the earth we resigned thee, but quickly appears A friend who had known thee and loved thee for years ; With roses he's laden — sweet gifts for the dead — And he decks, while he mourns thee, thy eold narrow bed. Softly glowing, hut lovely, are those for the head, For the feet he selects what are shaded with red : He reserves that sweet white one, so pure without art : Oh where will he plant it, if not on thy heart '. 49 THE OLD MAN'S REFLECTION. Becker. Have I either read or dreamt it '. Have I so long here dwelt ? Has this frail frame, in bygone years, Gay youth and vigour felt? And have 1 by the sheep-track reached The mountain's dizzy height ? And have I boldly dared the Hood, And braved it in its might ? And was it I who still was found Where circled wine and sons: Whose heart was warmed by greeting kind, Spoken by maiden's tongue I My straying locks I contemplate, They're white as winter's -now ; i> 50 THE ni.D MAN S REFLECTION. I feel my pulse —its fluttering streams In lazy currents flo\* . The distant heights I cannot see, A cloud rests on tlic lake : Id pride of pomp, or beauty's charms, I now no pleasure take. And yet for me shall be renewed Those bygone days so bright ; Again shall youth and vigour spring, And sadness take its flight. Yes! when on earth my course is run, And my last sigh's expended ; Thus blooms the morning fresh and fair, When night's dull gloom has ended. 51 HOMELESS. Platen. In the blue wave reflected, see The star of evening glow : Yon boy has drawn his nets ashore, And stillness reigns below. "The day is spent, my task is o'er"— "And, homeless boy, what then ? Thou art forlorn, thou hasl no friend, No sympathy with men."' And near the shore there stands a tree, And gainst it leans a Btone, And underneath, in aarrow space, The dead boy lies alone. T o E M M A Schille) Deep hid 'midst distant gathering clouds, That bliss so treasured lies ; But on one lonely radiant star I fondly fix my eyes. Alas! it shines, that gentle light, But only in the cloud of night. Didst thou but take that last loug sleep, That rest which death can give, Thine image, in deep sorrow traced. Within my heart would live. Alas ! alas ! on earth 's thy lot, And yet for me thou livest not. Can love's belief, can love's sweet hope, Thus soon can they decay ? That love which was, but now is passed, Fades that so soon away ' And shall that heavenly passion die And, like all earth-born blessings, fly ' 53 S X (J. Milllei'. Oh, joyful is the flowery spring, So fragrant and so blooming ; But winter comes, with with erii ig touch. All things to ruin (looming. And oh! how sweet the warbled songs Which through the air are sounding! Passed is the spring, we hear no more Those notes so sweet resounding. But Nature still ( Jreates at will, In power and skill abounding. And should some trusted friend prove false, Some loved one e'er forsake t heCj Thy grief in hitter tears may flow, Bui lei despair not seize thee ; 5 I i KJ. For still in life there's joy reserved, Around skill blessings gather ; Let hope and courage from the breasl Be never banished — never. The spirit still Creates at will, New joys thai perish — never. 00 Y E A R N I N G. Schiller, Oh could I from this gloomy vale, Where cold and misty vapours rest, The track to gain, the outlet find, How would my onward path be blest ! Beyond, a lovely landscape shines, Eternal blooming, fresh and fair; Oh had I pinions, had 1 wings, To bear me hence, and place me there! From thence I hear melodious sounds, Ami heavenly minstrels sweetly sing, Ami gentle breezes, softly blowing, To me the balmy odours bring. Ami there, too, tempting golden fruit, 'Midst dark-green Leaves my eves allure Ami flowers I see. which never fade, Nor winters withering touch endure. 56 LEARNING. Ami oh ! how Bweel to wander, w here Eternal sunshine cheers the vale ; Where lighl the breeze and pure the air, And health is borne on every gale ! P>ut ah ! a dismal enilf forbids — Between us torrents roar and rave ; I look, and hack I shuddering shrink, So darkly foams the swelling wave. A boat 1 see, which rocks and reds — Alas ! the guiding pilot fails ! Oh doubt not, pause not, boldly steer ; Success direct, and swell the sails. In fearless faith thou must believe, No other pledge to thee is given : A miracle alone can take Thee to the glorious land of heaven. 57 H P E. Oh, Hope is like yon monthly rose, With many a bud of beauty rare ; The stem decays on which it grows, And, fading, dies the promise fail-. Mourn not thy buds, thou monthly rose, Nor, losing these, extinction fear ; Hope's bud, alas! too seldom blows: Both, withering, fade, but fresh appear. 58 THE BOY BY THE BROOK. Schillei A boy sat by a murmuring stream, And listless wove a flowery wreath ; Away 'tis thrown, and quickly now Tis dancing in the waves beneath. " And as this streamlet restless flows, So 1 am passing all my days ; My blooming youth is fading fast. And withering as this wreath decays. "Oh ask me not why thus I mourn, When life is young, and all things new : When hope and pleasure bloom around. And spring's soft breath all things renew. What though a thousand voices sound, And Nature rises from her sleep ! They only waken in my breasl A sorrowing sadness, grave and deep. THE BOY I'.Y THE BROOK. 59 " And what avails the quiet joy, Which spring, revolving, spreads afar I One object only do I seek, And she is near, yet ever far. I pensive fix my wishful eyes Upon that shadowy form so bright ; Alas ! it still eludes my grasp, And leaves me in the cloud of night. " Oh, lovely maiden, quick descend, And leave thy proud and castled home : For thee the sweetest flowers shall blow, With thee through fragrant meads I'll roam. And hark ! the songsters fill the groves, And sparkling fountains How so clear; E'en in the smallest hut there's space To hold a happy loving pair.'' 60 THE PILGRIM OF ST TOST. Platen. The night wore on apace, The storm was wellnigh o'er. "" Arise, ye Spanish monks, And open quick your door. " Oh let me rest within, Till waked by matin bell : For in that holy church My beads I'd early tell. " And what your house affords, Prepare, good father, straight— A coffin and a cowl ; Resigned, I'll meet my fate. "Deny me not ;i narrow cell, Ami quick instal me there, THE PILGRIM OF ST .JUST. 01 For moiv than hall' tin- world In my dominions were. " The head which now submits So freely to be shaved, Has worn the victor's crown — His flag has o'er it waved. " This bending shoulder now, A cowl can scarce sustain : 'Twas dressed in royal robes, Nor wore I them in vain. " I live — but am as dead, A leafless withered tree ; In ruin lies my realm, An emblem meet of me." 62 ON A CHILD'S EYE. D. Wihl I look into thy youthful eye, Thine eye so clear and blue ; My heart is melted by its beam, As melts the morning dew. Oh that I were again a child, Dear mother, still with thee ! And list'ning to that voice so mild, From care and sorrow free. To yonder heights the huntsman climbs. He carries there his grief; At sight of those sweet alpine flowers, His sorrow finds relief. Thus if I look into thine eye My heart oppressed with sorrow, To me 'tis like the alpine flower. And peace from it I borrow. 63 THE WINCHESTER HUNT. UMand. A fearful dream King William had, And from his conch he sprang ; " This day 1/11 hunt in Winton's wood : " And soon the echoes rang. And as they neared the forest edge The king his rein drew in ; To each he gave an arrow true With which a prize to win. Forth from behind a fine old oak. A noble stag now flew ; The monarch quickly bends his bow,— What snaps thai cord in two ? Sir Walter takes a righl good aim, Sir Walter carries true ; til THE WINCHESTER HINT. He shot, the king quite I brougfa t be bearl Eire li<' his arrow drew. And quick be hastens from the spot, lie flies o'er land and sea ; He flies in vain ; for guilt like his No rest on earth can be. The prince meanwhile each covert trie-. In search of noble game ; " The arrow which my sovereign gave, Deserves the boldest aim." Full soon he met the knightly train, Who sought him through the glade ; They broke to him the monarch's death, The crown before him laid. " From this sad fearful hunt,"' they said. " A booty rich you gain ; The noble leopard is your prize, Long may King Henry reign ! " THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER. a student's political song. Uhland. Three youths the Rhine had ferried o'er, They reached a hostess' friendly door. " Good hostess, hast thou wine and beer ? And say where is thy daughter dear." " My beer is good, my wine is clear, My daughter's on her funeral-bier." The room they seek, they step therein : A coffin's placed, she lies within. The first approached, removed the veil, And looked upon that corpse so pale : " Sweet maiden, didst thou now but live, My heaxl to thee I'd lively give." K 66 THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER. o'er her the veil the second cast, And turned away ; his tears fell Cast " Alas that thou art on thy bier ! [Ve truly loved thee many a year." The third tore it again away, And kissed her as she lifeless lay : " I loved thee ever, love thee now ; To thee eternal love I vow.' 67 "ALAS! FOR ME BLOOMS NONE.'' L. Will. In grassy meads the lambkins play, The birds sing sweetly all the day ; To the valley hies the shepherd-boy, And blooms each little flower for joy. Alas ! for me blooms none. And loudly sounds the mountain stream. And dance the waves in morning's beam. The early sun ethereal glows, And each spring flow'ret joyful blows. Alas ! for me blooms none. And all around alike rejoice, " And utter forth a glorious voire." Since lost to me, alas ! thou art. Tn joy no more I take a part, Alas ! for me blooms none, 68 THE ERL KING. Gortlu . Oh who rides by night through the forest so fast. While so cold is the breeze, and so chilly the blast ? Tis the father who holds his young child on his arm, And closely he grasps him, to shield him from harm. "What fear'st thou, my darling, why trembles my child?" " Oh seest thou not, father, the Erl King, so wild ? The Erl King, with his crown, his sword, and his train. " " 'Tis a cloud- wreath, my son, and thyfears are all vain." " Oh wilt thou go with me, my beautiful child? With frolics and sports shall thy time be beguiled ; On yon beach, varied flowers await thee, fair boy : Golden raiment thou'lt have, and all shall be joy." " My father, my father! oh canst thou not hear What the Erl King has whispered so low in mine ear V THE ERL KING. 69 " Oh rest thee, my darling, thy mind set at ease, Thou heardst but the wind as it moaned thru' the fcrees. ,: " Oh wilt thou go with me, thou beautiful boy \ My daughter shall tend thee, and all shall be joy. Kissed and caressed, thou shalt lie on her breast ; She shall love thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to rest." " My father, my father ! oh seest thou not then The Erl King's pale daughter ? she floats in the air ! " " Be still, my sweet child, 'tis fear makes thee rave ; The dark willows I see in the night-breeze they wave." " I love thee, I'll have thee, no longer I'll stay ; Come, willingly come, or I'll force thee away." " My father, my father ! oh, hold me now fast, He's seized me, he hurts me, he'll have me at last." The father he shuddered, and close to his breast. His expiring child, as he hastened, he pressed : But when lie arrived at his own castle-door, The heart of his darling, it fluttered no more. FRAGMENT. Yon turrets with moss overgrown, When time damps the lustre of praise, Where deeds are erased from the stone, And virtue lies mouldered by days, Declare that this frail human frame Shall perish, and surely decay — Shall be struck from the records of Fame, And die, like the sun of the day. 71 THE OLD MAN. Becker, He saw the trees shoot forth their buds, So fresh, so green, so young ; He saw the sparkling fountains flow. And rainbows o'er them hung. He saw the arch of heaven so blue, Serene and clear the day ; He gazed on his deep-furrowed I trow. The hair was silver grey. " As bounteous spring upon this earth Now sends her blessings free. With laughing gestures, full of mirth. So life <»nce beckoned me. "Oh had it then bul kept its faith. And what it promised given ' 72 THE <>|J) MAN. Bui life's a beggar, nothing worth ; King I leath his realm has riven. " And iii the shadowy cypress-grove, The monarch's dwelling's shown ; Forgetfulness his kingdom is, A gravestone is his throne. "And there his num'rous children sleep. So peacefully and warm, Safe cradled in a turfy bed, Encircled by his arm. " He sits in solemn silence there, And watches o'er their rest ; Nothing disturbs then quiet sleep, Their beds with flowers are dressed. " Here, leaning on his bending staff, A weary old man see ; Why tarriest thou so long, oh king i Whv send'st thou not for me ?" 73 A LAST WISH. A. Srlu'lt:. Oh would that I could rove with Thee Once more through grove and field ! Yet once again the wild-flowers see, Which varied blossoms yield! I 'd pluck a pale forget-me-not — No other would I take ; And it should ever say to Thee, " Oh keep me for her sake ! " 74 THE LINDEN-TEEE. The lightning Hashed, the thunder roared, And rolled the threatening cloud away ; I looked, and high as it had soared, Prostrate on earth the victim lay. A Linden-tree, with blossoms decked, Now lies uprooted on the green. Where, as the hamlet to protect, Its faithful guard, it long was seen. From mouth to mouth now runs the tale. The village rustics gather all ; With saddened glance and sounding wail. They mourn their well-known favourite's fall. In heartfelt tears the children grieve. Lamenting where the Linden lay, Which oft had seen them garlands weave. And dance so cheerfully and gay. THE LINDEN-TREE. And, list ! a maiden whispers low — That maiden with the rosy cheek— " Sister! when he returns, you know. I can him here no longer seek." E'en on the husband's brow you sec Deep sorrow's dark and mournful clouds ; He seeks his wife, speaks of the tree, While watchful she her baby shrouds. " When harvest toil our limbs at length Has bowed beneath fatigue's dull power, Here have we oft renewed our strength, And freshened life at evening hour." Slow now advances out the crowd, The patriarch, the grey old man ; He sorrowing shakes that silver lock, As he, to mourn the tree, began : " It was my sire that planted thee, The joyful day that saw my birth : Of life's near end thou mindest me; Uprooted lies one friend from earth." LEO N o R A. Fragnu nt. Leonora woke with early dawn ; Wild dreams her pillow throng. William, art faithless or ait dead ? Why tarriest thou so long % With Frederick's mighty host to Prague, To seek renown, he went; Nor had he since one written word. To her, his loved one, sent. At length the Empress and the King Their bloody struggles cease ; Forgetting discord, they proclaim Aloud, a joyful peace. Exulting, see that gallant host Return with clang and sons : With laurels decked, they seek their homes — Those homes they've left so long. LEONORA. 77 They pass— and quick, their friends to greet, All crowd the dusty way ; And old and young the impulse feel, And bless the joyous day. " Now God be praised ! " cried wife and child ; " Thou'rt welcome," many a bride. Alas ! to Leonora none Came hasting to her side. She wildly ran through all the host, She called on every name ; Yet none of him could give the news. If faithless or if slain. And when the gallant train had passed, She tore her raven hair ; And threw herself upon the earth, In bitter, deep despair. 78 THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. Sch iller. The storm shakes the forest, The sky s overcast ; On the shore sits the maiden, Exposed to the blast. And the billows they heave with might, witli might. And she sends forth her sighs in the darkness of night, And tearful and sad are her eyes. " My heart it is broken ; My life is a blank ; Nothing more can it give, Its dregs I have drank. Oli mother, in heaven, to thee would I go ; On earth I've enjoyed all that earth can bestow. Alas! I have lived and I've loved." ''Tears vainly are flowing, 'Tis fruitless to weep : THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. 79 Complaints cannot waken The dead from their sleep ; Yet say what can cheer and comfort the breast, When vanished with love are its joys and its rest. And I, from above, I will grant it." " Let tears ever flowing- Show vain 'tis to weep ; Complaints cannot waken The dead from their sleep. Oh, nothing can cheer the sorrowing breast, When vanished with love are its joy and its rest. Like love's faithful tears and complaints." Hi) A PRAYER DURING BATTLE. Korner Father ! I call on Thee ! In clouds of smoke, the cannons round me crashing, The dazzling lightning; round me flashing ; Thou God of battles ! I call on Thee ! Father, Father, lead me ! Father, Father, lead me ! Victory thou grantest, or to death thou guidest. I bow submissive, though the event Thou hidest. Lord, as Thou wilt, so direct me ; Oh God, Thine hand I see ! ( >h God, Thine hand I see ! The same when autumn's rustling leaves are sighing, As when 'mid battle's strife and thunder dying : Source of mercy ! I perceive Thee : Father, Father, bless me ! \ PRAYER DURING BATTLE. 81 Father, father, bless me ! Father, from Thee I hold my life : Thou gavesl As Thou in wisdom seesl ; Thou takesl or savest. In death, as in life, oli bless me ! Father, I praise Thee ! Father, I praise Thee ! ( >ur blood for the treasures of earth is not poured, For all that's most sacred we unsheath the sword. Falling and conquering, I praise Thee ! I vow myself to Thee ! I vow myself to Thee ! When death's thund'ring voice in the battle shall greet me. Ami life, ebbing fast, aear its dose I shall see; Oh God, I vow myself to Thee ! Fal her, I call on Thee ! 82 THE GOLDSMITH'S DAUGHTER. Uhland. A GOLDSMITH sat within his door, 'Mid pearls and jewels rare- •• Sweet Helen ! thou of nil my store M v brightesi jewel art — a treasure Thai needs my tenderest care." A knight steps in, of noble mien— " Welcome, my gentle maid ; And welcome too. dear goldsmith mine Of gems prepare, for my sweet bride, A wreath that will not fade." The costly present was prepared — Playing, sparkling brightly; 'Hie maiden t<> her r<»<>m repaired — She w.-is alone, ami mi her brow She placed and fixed it lightly. THE GOLDSMITHS DAUGHTER. 83 "Oh, happy, happy is the bride On whom this wreath they'll sec ! Had that clear knight, when by my side. For me a rose-wreath only twined, How joyful should 1 be I" The knight returns, the jewels shine- He placed the wreath aside. ''Now make for me, dear goldsmith mine, A little ring, of diamonds fine, For my sweet bride to wear." And see a costly ring's prepared, Of diamonds shining brightly. The maiden to her room repaired — She was alone — that ring half <>n Her finger placed so lightly. " Oh, happy, happy is the bride On whom this ring they'll see ! Had that dear knight, when by my side To me a lock of hair but given, How joyful should 1 be ! The kni'jlit returns, the jewels shine- He placed the ring aside. 8 | THE GOLDSMITH 8 DAUGHTER. "Now thanks to thee, dear goldsmith mine, Thou'sl made, and well, two costly gifts For my sweel lovely bride. • Yet still I'd fain, before I go, Well prove their beanty rare. Step forth, sweel maid; nay, blush doI bo, To wear my loved one's bridal gear; Like thee, she's good and fair." With glowing cheeks, and Looks casl down. Before the knight she .stands ; He decks her with that jewelled crown, Presents the ring with courtly grace, Then seizes both her hands. " Helen, my love ! thou art my pride — The jest has now been played : Thou art my lovely youthful bride : For thee this costly sparkling crown. For thee this ring was made. " 'Mid jewels rare, and pearls and gold. My treasure aow I see ; A token this, for thee to hold. That thou art destined honours high, My love, to share with me." 85 "AN EMBLEM MEET <>K ME." Bech r. Thou bravedsl alone the winter's su.iw. Thou scathed and Leafless tree — Exposed to every chilling blast— An emblem meet of me. Bu1 soon returns reviving spring, Dead nature to restore ; And quickly burst the blossoms forth — The Likeness is no more. With dark and shadowy clouds begirt, The pale cold moon I sec In heaven's wide arch ; she shines alone— An emblem meel <>l me. They disappear, those clouds oi right, Ti> clear as i was before ; 86 " AN EMBLEM MEET OF Ml.. Serene she simp-, 'mid thousand stars The likeness is no more. Upon that deep and silent lake, That lonely, lily sea, Crowned by her lovely leaves of green An emblem meet of me. But no ! thou art not so forlorn ; E'en now they circle round thee, Those gentle, thoughtful, snowy swans The likeness is no more 87 ON A LATE-FLOWERING HONEYSUCKLE. Platen. '.Midst pine-clad groves, deserted and alone, Sweet fading flower ! why find I thee thus late \ The stormy breeze proclaims the winter near, Which, roughly blowing, hastens on thy late. Dense on the mountain lay the misty wreath, Behind which Long had slept the sun's bright fay ; When mice again, across the fields, 1 felt. Unbidden rise, the inward wish t<> stray. Attracted by thy beauty and thy scent, The wanderer found, and hastened towards the spol . Ah ! well I'm- me no other there had vo\ ed, And ruthless plucked, for I had found thee not. Perchance in fragranl beauty thou didst wait Till I could seek t hee in this deserl place ; 88 ON A LATE-FLOWERING HONEYSUCKLE. [Intended, blooming in the distanl w I. Till winter came, t In' lasl "I .ill thy race. Ami well dosl thou deserve, sweel late-found flower, A poet's qoI ice. and ;i poet's praise : For thou dost mind him of a Browing fame Still blooming on when all around decays. 89 THE TWO QUEENS. Ill vie r. Surrounded by her lovely dames, The stately princess sec ; Slowly she moves, and honour claims From every bended knee. With pensive mien, and deep in thought, The king beheld them all ; While she no kindly greeting sought, But proudly crossed the hall. And .soon was he again alone— Wh;it takes he from his In-east ? A portrait that in beauty shone — He smiles, and speaks the rest. " Proudly she steps, she bears ;i pari In jewelled crown and throne ; Sw eel maiden of t he \ ale. my heart Is thine, and t hine alone. !'U RUGEN. The young women of the tsle of Etiigen, in former times, bad the powei oJ ■ boosing their own bridegrooms. It was the custom to bang an apron from the window of the house where the maiden resided who wished to ex< this privilege. Tliis signal attracted all the young men of the village; and the maiden chose from among them the one she honoured with her affection. She sent a silk handkerchief to him the following evening a- a pledge of hei intention, and his acceptance of the token implied his acquiescence. From the window my mother my white apron hung, And many passed by, and they laughed and they sung. "Oh, haste thee, my darling, thy choice to declare " But I wept and I sobbed, for I saw him nol there. "Oh, he is not there, the loved one,'" I cried, ■• Who I tain would for ever keep close by my side : Proclaim hut the news, spread it wide o'er the sea. And he'll quickly return, and his bride 1 shall he. " I would on the masthead my token you'd placed. The prey of the winds on the watery waste : Had he seen it but flutter, though Car in the air. He'd have known it. and hailed it. and wished himself there RUGEN. '.'1 " But now that to seek him my kerchief I send, In my own faithful hand, to the shore it shall wend ; To the white-crested wave I will trust thee secure, And a sign thou slialt be that my love will endure. "In vain shouldst thou seek him, then sink down below, Search deep in the caves where the corallines grow : And wherever thou findest him taking his rest, Approach the spot gently, and cover his breast. ■■ And then, when the angel the trumpet shall sound, Which together shall gather the nations around. Awaking, he'll see thee, and joyful exclaim, • Yes, in death as in life she was ever the same ! 92 THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. 1'inti „. The leaves are gone, the summer's flown, The fruit is gathered in — From me, alas! my peace is flown, I feel it not within. He in a palace dwells, but / A cottar's root' beneath ; And now he leaves his lordly halls, To win a victor's wreath. L had a dream. 1 would 'twere true — I woke with morning's light — And saw r them there, that knightly train » ( Hi. 'twas a glorious sight ! And he came i<>n, in flower of youth, And on his steed he sprang ; THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. Trembling, L stood beside our door — His armour, how it rang ! And clad in careless morning-dress, Nor gold nor silk she wore, Outsteps his youthful gentle bride, To bid adieu once more. Before they parted, yet again He kissed that brow so white; And swore to her eternal faith, By all those charms so bright. He rode away with all his train, Scarce saw me at my door — The leaves are gone, the summer's past, .My dream of love is o'er. !t| THE FORSAKEN. Bech i . Tis the rapid-flowing Rhine, With waves so broad and free ; She hastens through the varied lands To reach the open sea. And on the beach a lovely maid Is seen, with outstretched hands : The waves advance, the waves recede, And still that maiden stands. And roses, darkly red, were thrown That morn into the Rhine : And on it see a crescent moon, With silvery splendour shim-. And now her stormy breast she heaves 'Tis stilled by fairy hands : The waves advance, the waves recede, And still that maiden stands. THE FORSAKEN. 95 And as the noble vessel neared, Which her best-loved one bore, I low quickly beat her constanl liearl ! \Vh;it joy Ikt features wore ! But there he .stood, that faithless one, Another by his side ; And coldly he his greeting made To her who watched the tide. Thou ship, so full of bold, stout men. How quick they make thee sail ! Thou hopeless maiden on the shore, How stiff' thou art, and pale ! And as the rapid mighty Rhine Thence flowed, so broad and five. She gently earned, on her waves, The dead one to the sc.-i. 96 T I! A X S L A Tin N. W. MilUer I bade farewell, and pressed his hand, And now he's in a distant land ; To him the little birds are singing, For him the flowers their sweets are flinging : But far from thee my wreath I twine, While I am ever, ever thine. 'Twas spring, I in the garden strayed, And with the falling blossoms played ; A bright-green leaf I gathered there — < )f hope it spoke, ;i promise fair : ( >n it I wrote a hasty line, That I am ever, ever thine. And Bee, the swallows dart in haste. Like arrows, in the airy waste : TRANSLATION. 97 They now descend, with rapid winy — To one of these my note I'll fling, And it shall tell thee on the Rhine, That I am ever, ever thine. And when my bird, with slender wing, To thee shall my soft greeting bring (Perchance 'twill be at evening hour, And watching thou a favourite flower), Oh, say but this, "That thou art mine, And I for ever, ever thine." 98 THE GOOD-NATUItKI) MAX. lhcker. And one there was, a friend lie seemed, And kindness from Lis blue eye beamed ; / ask, " What does he here ? " They say, " With us he's dwelt for many a day ; Our duty 'twas to bid him stay, And God such service will repay."' To praise him, all are of one mind, He is so good and true and kind." And now see many guests are there. They say to him, " The meal prepare ; " And here and there lie runs in haste, Till all are at the table placed ; They sat around, so free and gay, 1 1 is plate upon the sideboard lay ! But still to praise him they're of one mind, He is so good and true and kind. THE GOOD-NATURED MAX. f ".i They wander forth, and leave him there, And say, " Of house and home take cure ; The children watch, the cattle feed, And of the servants take good heed.'' Industrious — he sees all's right ; They home return, quite late at night, His candle take, but still they mind To say, "He's good and true and kind." And if, when broke the bucket's chain, To reach it deep they try in vain ; And if the plums and pears they see Are ripe upon the highest tree, — Whate'er befalls of grave or gay, " Do this or that," they ever say. When done, they praise him with one mind, " He is so good and true and kind." When sick and weak, they stand aloof {His chamber's just beneath the roof) — This message goes, " When thou art well, Some one to us the news will tell." That news, alas! was never scut. For in that night his spirit went. They mourn for him as of one mind ; " Pity 1"' died," he was so kind. HID PATRIOTIC RHINE Su.XC Becker You shall not have our river, The free and German Rhine ; We never will resign her, She never shall be thine Though with the croaking raven's voice You cry, and long to seize her, No ! never shall your hordes rejoice That Frenchman's arm could win her. So long as, flowing on her way. She holds her robe of green — So long as oars, by night or day, To lash her waves are seen — You shall not have our river, Our free and German Rhine ; PATRIOTIC RHINE SONG. 101 We never will resign lier, She never shall be thine. So long as noble Germans quaff Her red and fiery wine, So long as merry sounds the laugh, They shall not have our Rhine. So long as by its rock-girt stream Looks fortress castle down, So long as in its mirror seen Their mimic turrets frown. You shall not have our river, Our free and German Rhine ; We never will resign her, She never shall be thine. So long as softened maiden's cal- ls wooed by bolder boy, So long as watery tenants rear Their fins in sportive joy ; So long as yet, to charm our sense. The power of Bong remains, And minstrel-strains, you know not whence, Our heartfelt rapture claims ; 102 PATRIOTIC RHINE BONG. So long as pouring cannons roar, I )i Ehrenbreitstein stands ; ( >r our Btoul ( rerman arm can fight, To save his father's lands ; No ! not till in her bosom lies The last of ( rermaD line, Shall you in triumph o'er her rise, ( tar free and German Rhine ! 103 A P P E A L EAST PRUSSIA DURING THE DREADFUL INUNDATION IN L84445, I. Too soon the dreary winter came, And with it hunger, pale and wan ; False was the promise summer gave. And bright our hope — but both arc gone. Behold yon weeping, famished child, Which, shivering, seeks its mother's care : In patient agony she sits, Scarce conscious Bpeaks, and this her prayer " Oh, God of mercy, hear our cry ! Oh, brothers, help us ere we die ! 11. " Oh, gladly would we work have found — Our husbands sought it day by day : I<> I APPEAL PROW BAST PRUSSIA DURING The search was vain ; when nighl returned They wended back their weary way. Alas ! it now is all too late : These bleeding bands for pity crave ; They're deeply cut, and frozen too, And cannol now from hunger save. ( >li, ( rod of mercy, hear our cry ! Oh, brothers, help us ere we die ! in. " Oh, ye who, decked in jewels rare, The pain of hunger ne'er have known, Cast not aside our timid hands, Reject not misery's famished moan ; Give but one pearl, and take from us Our pearly tears which freely flow. Towards heaven those drops shall swiftly soar. A witness there from us below. Oh, God of mercy, hear our cry ! Oh, brothers, help us ere we die ! IV. " And you, ye dwellers on the Rhine, Whose fruitful land is blest with peace, THE DREADFUL INUNDATION IN 1844-45. 105 ( rive — if but little — give, and bid The cruel pangs of hunger cease. We suppliant beg, pale hunger calls, And famished children help implore ; Fear no deceit where misery dwells, Starvation sits at every door. Oh, God of mercy, hear our cry ! Oh, brothers, help us ere we die ! " Your glass is filled with sparkling wine, Of golden hue, so bright and clear ; We can but pledge, from sorrow's source, Our strongest wine, a human tear. We offer this, 'tis all that's left ; In blessing you our tears shall flow : Without your aid we helpless sink, And seek a grave beneath the snow. Oh, God of mercy, hear our cry! Oli, brothers, help as ere we die ! VI. "Think not such tears unheeded flow, Unworthy they of fostering care; 1.0<; APPEAL PROW BAST PRUSSIA, BTl . By angels caught, to heaven they mount, Each pearly drop's recorded there. More brilliant they, of higher price, Than aught that decks you here below ; For God has given His promise sure, \\ e there shall reap what here Ave sow. Oh, God of mercy, hear our cry ! Oh, brothers, help us ere we die !" 107 THE DYING ONE. A. Schultz. Oh let me see thee, feel thy hand ! Death soon the tie will sever ; My soul must leave this earthly frame, But thee forsake — oh never ! Beloved one ! shed no tears for me, I am for ever thine ; Come near my couch, and leave me not, I'd on thy breast recline. And as thy guardian angel soon, When I've resigned my breath, I'll watch thee, as I have in life, I'll watch thee unto death. Thy steps my viewless form shall trace, Though thou'lt not Bee me there, 108 \ REVERIE. I.ut soft my breal b shall circle round, My presence to declare. Eitcli evening softly will I close With mine own hand thine eyes ; Nightly in thy dreams I'll greet thee With love that never dies. A REVERIE. From yonder heights the sun's bright ray, Has chased the morning's misty wreath, And softly home the village bell's Sound cheerful from the vale beneath ; And rippling waters gently flow, Meandering through the neighbouring lands, While mirrored in her silver stream, An ancient fortress trembling stands. And oh ! how sweet this morn to me, Could I enjoy it but with thee ! ().<) THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. U hi and. " Hast thou that stately castle seen That stands above the shore, The golden-tinted rosy clouds So gently Moating o'er ? " Reflected in the placid tide, Its mimic towers appear ; It seems as though it fain would reach That vault of heaven so clear." " Alas ! I have that castle seen, That stands above the shore ; But on it shone the waning moon — The mist-wreath floated o'er." "Heardst thou the wind and rippling wave. Give out their cheerful sound ? 110 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. And didst thou bear from out the balls The festive notes resound ?" "The wind was hushed, the waves were still, They lay in silence deep ; J >ut wailing from the halls I heard — Such sounds as made me weep." "And didst thou on the height perceive The royal pair advance ; Their crowns, and robes of purple hue, In golden sunlight glance ? " And didst thou not between them see A little maiden there, As splendid as the rising sun, With shining golden hair V " Alas ! I saw that pair in grief — No robes nor crowns they wore, For they were clad, in sorrow's garb — That maid was there no more." 111 THE BLIND KING. UMand. Why stood upon the sea-girt rock The northern warriors all ? And why did he, that blind old king, So loudly from it call 1 He called — in anguished accents called — As on his staff lie leant ; The waves conveyed the echoing sounds, The bitter words lie sent. "Thou shameless robber! from thy cave Give back my daughter dear ; With harp and song, my (hilling child, My darkened life did cheer. "From merry dance and gleeful mirth Thou'st stole that child away ; 112 THE BUND KINO. To thee, an everlasl ing sham< — To me, deep grief for aye." Then stepped from <»ni his rocky cave, The pirate \\ p ho did wield, With gianl arm, ;i ,<_;i;iiit Bword, And struck upon his shield. "Why loiter now thy mighty men '. Thou hast so many guards, Hast thou no knights who dare for her In conflict draw their swords % " Alas ! the warriors all were dumb ; No knight steps out the ring. " And stand I then on earth alone ? " Exclaimed the aged kins--. A pressure on his hand he feels — " Oh, father, let me fight ; Thy blessing give — as son I claim To help thee as my right." " My son, a giant's strength he hath ; None may that arm withstand : And yet in thee flows noble blood, So film thou grasp 'st my hand. THE BLIND KIM;. 113 "Take then the sword thy fathers used, Well known in ancient tale : A watery grave shall welcome me, The old man — if thou fail." And soon a boat across the sea Has sped with rushing sound. The aged monarch list'ning stands, And silence reigns around. But hark ! the well-known sounds arc heard Of shield and sword the shock — And shouts and cries of raging fight O O o Re-echoed from the rock. In anxious hope, the old man cried. " What see ye ? quickly tell ; f heard my good sword's clanging sound, Its ring I know full well." "The prince has won the victory, The pirate robber's dead ; Hail to the hero, first in strength ! " Was what the courtiers s;iid. Again the list'ning monarch stands, And silence reigns around. ii Ill I HE BLIND KINO. •• W lint do I hear, from o'er the sea, ( )f boats the plashing sound '. "They come! they conic' fasl flies the boat, Thy son, with sword and shield ; And there she stands, with golden hair, Thy cherished child, Gunild. "Oh, welcome both !" the blind king cried, And loud his voice did sound ; " Life's evening now will joyful be, My grave with honour crowned. "Thou gallant boy, lay by my side My sword — how it did ring ! My rescued daughter, my Gunild — My death-dirge thou wilt sing.'* 115 R U B E Z A H f, Rubezahl is the name of a mountain spirit who is implicitly be- lieved in by almost the entire population of the " Riesen Gebirge," in Silesia. They believe this spirit to inhabit the mountain-range and the wild dells which surround it ; and in their difficulties they invoke him for assistance, which he is supposed to giant to the destitute and deserving. The following poem embodies an incident of this nature, which occurred in Silesia during the prevalence of a >ad famine which afflicted that district. "Again the hawthorn buds are bursting. And peeps the violet — welcome guesi ! The busy thrush for sticks is searching ; The bullfinch, too, has built its nesl ! The hills are green, and warm the valley ; The snow but tips the summits tall ; Full of bright hope, from home 1 Ve stolen. This is the plac< — his name I'll call, Etubezahl I •• Heard he \ Oh, I will boldl) meet him 1 He is our friend and here I II Bpread 1 L6 IM BEZAHL. The produce of our honesl labour ; Fair is the linen, fine t be thread ! No better can t be valley furnish ; The ells are just, the price is small ; I '» 1 1 1 still he comes not — courage ! courage ! Hue,' more I'll try — once more I'll call, Riibezahl ! " No sound ! I sought this spot so lonely, A suppliant by pale hunger led. My mother's cheeks are wan and wasted ; And in the house no food — no bread ! My father vainly seeks the markel : He finds not there a Riibezahl. But I will try the mountain spirit ; Where can he be \ — once more I'll call, Riibezahl ! "In bygone years he aided man v. How oft the story has been told ! He pities those who guiltless suffer, He helps the wretched — gives them geld ! For this it was I joyful hasted, To seek him here, apari from all. I will not beg — oh no ! he'll purchase ! Did he but come, oh Riibezahl ! Riibezahl ! RUBEZAHI.. " And if this sample does but please him — Oh, happy thought ! he may take more. Alas ! at home how many have we The sale of which would joy restore ! And took he all, e'en to the last one — Which, should this please him, may befall — Then would I to our little chamber With joyful heart, oh Rubezahl ! Rubezahl " ' Oh, here is gold!' I'd cry, ' see, father ! Starvation now we need not dread.' And he would cease to say, with curses. ' 1 weave for hunger, not for bread.' My mother, too, would smile so sweetly. While spreading out our evening meal ; Rejoice would all my little brothers, Did he but come, oh Rubezahl ! Rubezahl ! Thus piteously a boy is calling — A pallid child, from hunger faint. In vain th' appeal : the raven, croaking. Alone gives answer t<» the plaint. Thus stood he waiting humbly waiting Till gathering darkness covered all. L18 IM BEZAHL. When be again, m faltering accents, Willi quivering lips, once more did call, Riibezahl! Ami then, with a despairing Bhiver, Be creeps from that secluded dell ; And carries back his unsold sample Towards home — where want and misery dwell. And oft on moss-grown stones he's resting His wearied limbs, his aching head. Poor boy ! soon must thy father weave thee A winding-sheet — to deck thy bed. 119 THE SAILOR'S SONG. Platen. Oh happy day, reserved by Fate, When will you dawn for me ; When my dear home, my long-left home, Before me I shall see '( Oh haven ! where my weary boat May rest, securely kept ; Oh maiden ! who, to honour me, Perchance one tear has wept — Rememb'rest thou thy sacred oath '. And hold'st thou sweet thy word ? Then, adverse Fate, pursue me not, Nor say that Hope has erred. For still I'll trust we'll meet again. Then, tarrying, watch the Bea, And if a pennon distanl waves, That flag belongs to me. 120 COME SOON TO BONN! COME— DO! DO ! ! DO : : : The following poem was written to a little boy who wa- Left with an attendant at school in Bonn, being considered too young to accom- pany his parents, who made a distant transalpine tour. The appeal which occasioned it was made in a few words traced in a Letter Benl from Bonn : " Oh ! come to Bonn soon ! — Do ! Do ! ! Do ! ! !" When from the snow-clad alpine heights A thousand trickling rills unite, And, rushing onwards to the plain, Proclaim the end of winter's reign ; When the earliest flowers expand, And breezes light play o'er the land : When, rising on untiring wing, The warbling lark is heard to sing, And gentlest showers, day by day. Alternate with the sun's bright ray ; When rainbows smile upon the sky. And from the copse the minstrelsy Of feathered songsters, loud and clear. Salutes tlic cheerful woodman's ear; COME SOON TO BONN ! COME — DO ! 121 When from the bud the blossom sweel Of hawthorn bursts, the spring to greet, And many a diamond drop of dew Sparkles with ever-changing hue ; When from their distant winter home The instructive tribe of swallows come ; When sapient rooks and knavish daws Are occupied with sticks and straws. And, like some priests of modern date, Of worthless trifles make debate ; When bright-eyed starlings, ever gay, Their future domiciles survey, And join their whistling notes to sing An anthem to the approaching spring — 'Tis then, my boy, With thankful joy, We cross the sea, And come to thee ! Till then we sojourn far away In southern climes, where every day Is spring forestalled. Where violets blue, And roses bloom of various hue, 'Midst orange-groves, and ever green The palm-tree of the East is seen ; Till then we view with wondering eye Vast ruins of antiquity — i L22 COME BOOM TO BONN I OOMB— DO 1 The remnants of imperial Home — The arch — the temple — and the tomb. We stand amidst the ruined walls I If mighty palaces and halls, Or climb the Colosseum's height, From whence old Romans viewed the fight Of savage beasts or captive men. Or lions rushing from the den, With flashing eyes, the prey to seize — A holy martyr on his knees. We visit gloomy catacombs, And see the early Christians' tombs, And spaces hollowed by the prayer Which trembling saints have offered there, AM) en persecution, stained with blood, Forbid the worship of their God. While sights like these fresh interest give, And mind and body health receiw. We raise our thankful thoughts above The passing scene, and bless the love And mercy that have marked the way Our steps have trod from day to day. But scenes like these Would fail to please, If to our sight A vision bright, COME SOON TO BONN ! COME DO ! 1 23 And present ever to the mind, Should cease to lend its power to bind Our wishful hearts, with strongest tic. To bonds more lovely to our eye. We see a noble gentle boy The swiftly passing hours employ In gathering flowers, from learning's field, To deck the mind, and pleasure yield In future years. We see him stand Surrounded by a happy band, When books and slates are laid aside, Prepared the bounding hoop to guide Or strike the cricket-ball, or try The particoloured kite to fly. We see him wander towards the wood. Or walk beside the rushing flood ( )f turbid Rhine, or mount the hill Of sunny Poppelsdorf, where still The church's darksome vault contains Of monks the undecayed remains. We see him, too, when every day I He seeks with reverence to pray For those he loves, now far away. J And may thy Heavenly Father hear Thy tender prayers, my child mosl dear' L24 l OMB 800M TO BONN ! OOME DO I And guide our steps, and granl thai we, In health and peace, may come to tin* So shall our hearts united i;n With joy the sacrifice of praise ; And we shall be The happiest three That can be found Through earth's wide bound. J. B. J. THE END. PRINTED PY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. EDINBURGH UCLA-Young Research Library PT1160.E5 F6 L 009 523 476 1 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 001 308 947 9 ,n