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 Poems of Heinrich Heine 
 
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HEINRICH HEINE 
 
POEMS OF 
 
 HEINRICH HEINE 
 
 THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE POEMS 
 
 SELECTED AND TRANSLATED 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUIS UNTERMEYER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1917 
 

 A-3-JifOifi.l 
 
 COPVRIOHT, 1917 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published March, 1917 
 
 THE QUINN £ BOOEN CO. PRESS 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
 V, 
 
THESE TRANSLATIONS 
 
 ARE GRATEFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 HERMAN EPSTEIN 
 TEACHER AND FRIEND 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In his " Life of Heinrich Heine " (one of the hasty 
 but surprisingly excellent pot-boilers written before his 
 alter ego, Fiona MacLeod, became a cult), William 
 Sharp points out what he considers Heine's " funda- 
 mental and puzzling complexities." 
 
 Among other and less significant things, he recog- 
 nizes him as a romanticist and the chief foe of 
 Romanticism; a true poet and a born journalist; an 
 historian without method, a philosopher without a 
 real philosophy; a free liver and yet loyal to his 
 wife and reverent of his mother; the most tender of 
 Teutonic poets and the most brutally cynical ; a Ger- 
 man, yet the bitterest scourge of Germany ; an intense 
 admirer of Sterne, a lover of Shakespeare, a com- 
 mender of the poets of England, and a hater of the 
 nation and everything English; a cynic who laughed 
 at sentiment, and a sentimentalist in spite of all things 
 — impatient and irritable in health, of heroic endur- 
 ance in ills more terrible than ever fell to the lot of 
 a poet. . . . 
 
 Some time before this, even before the death of 
 Heine, Gerard de Nerval had written : " It is no idle 
 paradox to say that Heine is both hard and soft, cruel 
 and tender, naif and sophisticated, skeptical and 
 credulous, lyrical and prosaic, impassioned and re- 
 served—an ancient and a modern." . . . But neither 
 Nerval nor Sharp made anything but a perfunctory 
 and half -perplexed attempt to explain this amazing 
 
VI 
 
 Preface 
 
 discovery of contradictions. Sharp, in particular, 
 wound up his book with a rapt appreciation, ending 
 in a flourish of rhetorical trumpets, and concluded 
 the matter. 
 
 But it needs something more than a list of antitheses 
 to understand this restless genius, a confusing figure 
 who has been paired with such names as Catullus, 
 Aristophanes, Burns, Rabelais, Cervantes, Voltaire, 
 Swift, Villon — in fact to every writer who is known 
 as a master of either simplicity or irony. It needs 
 a close and interpretive reading of his " Book of 
 Songs " ; it needs a general knowledge of the politically 
 experimental and altogether chaotic times of which 
 he was so fiery a product ; and it needs, first and last, 
 the constant reminder that Heine was a sensitive Jew, 
 born in a savagely anti-semitic country that taught him, 
 even as a child, that " Jew " and " pariah " were 
 synonymous terms. The traditions and tyrannies that 
 weighed down on all the German people of his day 
 were slight compared to the oppressions imposed upon 
 the Jews. The demands upon them, the petty persecu- 
 tions, the rigorous orders and taboos would form an 
 incredible list. Let these few facts suffice : In Frank- 
 fort, when Heine was a boy, no Jew might enter a park 
 or pleasure resort ; no Jew might leave his ghetto after 
 four o'clock on a Sunday afternoon ; and only twenty- 
 four Jews were allowed to marry in one year. In 
 such an atmosphere Heine received his heritage of 
 hate and his baptism of fire. 
 
 A great deal of literary nonsense and general con- 
 fusion has resulted because so many of Heine's critics 
 and biographers have taken him at his own valuation. 
 Heine was never, as he so often and fondly thought 
 
Preface vii 
 
 himself, a Greek. He was not that fictional creature, 
 an Hellenic Jew. Nor was he, except in a geographical 
 sense, a French or a German Jew. He was, in spite of 
 the seemingly absurd redundancy, a Jewish Jew. 
 
 In a crude generality, one might say that the Greek 
 ideal was decorative, the Jewish ideal was social. The 
 Greeks were glad to create work that brought happi- 
 ness to the creator; they produced, in the best sense, 
 ' Art for Art's sake.' The Jews were never satisfied 
 with so exclusive and aristocratic an aim; their motto 
 (if they ever had one) might have been ' Art for Life's 
 sake ' ; for, from the first prophet-priests who com- 
 piled the Books of Moses to the obscure rhapsodist who 
 wrote the Psalms, the vision was always a democratic 
 one. These Jews identified themselves with their songs ; 
 their confident egoism as message-brihgers lifted them 
 above their preoccupations as artists; and when they 
 exalted God they were celebrating what was godlike 
 and powerful in men. Before the Jews would ac- 
 knowledge Beauty, it would have to stand shoulder to 
 shoulder with them, work among them, drink, sweat, 
 suffer and become part of their daily desires and 
 dreams ; to them it could never be merely its own ex- 
 cuse for being. The hotly humanist element in Heine 
 stood out constantly against the deliberate, unimpas- 
 sioned and cool reserve of the classicist. 
 
 The Jews, as he himself so frequently pointed out, 
 are an inherently insurgent, stubborn and uncomfort- 
 able race; a people whose temperament is almost di- 
 rectly opposed to the overrefined consciousness and 
 Olympian serenity of the Greeks. And Heine was even 
 more ' insurgent, stubborn and uncomfortable ' than 
 the most typical of his race. 
 
 Heine imagined he was ' a joyous Hellene ' because 
 
viii Preface 
 
 he recaptured something of that strange mixture of 
 aestheticism and Homeric splendor ; because he sang, in 
 a worldly and mechanistic age, of Aphrodite, nightin- 
 gales and a defiant paganism ; because he addressed his 
 literary prayers to Apollo rather than to Jehovah or to 
 ' the melancholy Nazarene.' These things, of course, 
 made him no more truly Greek than the putting on of 
 a toga would have made him a Roman. Compare, for 
 instance, his familiar, rude and altogether human man- 
 ner of treating the deities (in "The North Sea") 
 with the way they are treated by a truly Hellenic poet 
 like Landor. And every chapter in his score of prose 
 volumes, every page of his careless and often banter- 
 ing letters, every line of his direct and intimate poetry, 
 shows him for what he was: the unusually emotional 
 and quick-tempered Oriental: the true Semite, never 
 so sensitive as when he covers his hurt with a cynical 
 shrug or a coarse witticism ; his rudest jests being often 
 the twisted laugh of a man in agony. 
 
 The man Heine (if one can consider him for a mo- 
 ment without regard to his race or his gifts) recovered 
 from his early love-affair with his fickle cousin in 
 Hamburg. Heine, the Jew (aggravated possibly by 
 Heine, the poet) never did. On the contrary, he dwelt 
 on the theme and magnified it until it not only colored 
 but dominated all his poetry. Not once, but a hundred 
 times (and with surprisingly few variations) does he 
 tell the story of the faithless and calculating girl who 
 married not for love but for money. He becomes bit- 
 ter with each thought of it ; all the Jew in him leaps up 
 in anger and ironic pathos whenever he thinks of what, 
 to any one else, would have seemed no more than a 
 youthful betrayal. In what is undoubtedly the key- 
 
Preface ix 
 
 note to this self-inflicted torture, He turns to answer 
 the woman, and, incidentally, the world. " Vergiftet 
 sind meine Lieder? " he expostulates : — 
 
 " My songs, they say, are poisoned. 
 How else, love, could it be ? 
 Thou hast, with deadly magic, 
 Poured poison into me. 
 
 " My songs, they say, are poisoned. 
 How else, then, could it be? 
 I carry a thousand serpents 
 And, love, among them — thee ! " 
 
 And he is characteristically the Jew, not alone in his 
 overheated hatred but in his equally hot and luxuriant 
 desires; his voluptuous love of the color and flavor 
 of things, his feverish imagination (a source of sharp- 
 est pain as much as of intense delight), his confident 
 egoism — all of which is as pronounced in the Jew 
 to-day as it is loudly proclaimed in the Old Testament. 
 At one time he writes, " The history of the Jews is 
 tragical ; and yet if one were to write about this tragedy 
 he would be laughed at. This is the most tragic of 
 all." And, at another time, he is gaily asserting the 
 Jews' ancient and unconquerable superiority. He hails, 
 with an almost personal pride, the superiority of a race 
 that watches its proud contemporaries with the same 
 ironic mixture of terror and toleration that it watched 
 the once proud kingdoms of antiquity; knowing them 
 all to be, like the vanished Egyptians, Persians, Romans, 
 tyrannical — and transient. It is this hand-in-hand- 
 with-God attitude that is behind Heine. It is the old 
 
x Preface 
 
 confidence that makes him, even in this slight and little- 
 known poem, express the spirit of a race: 
 
 " What ! Think you that my flashes show me 
 Only in lightnings to excel ? 
 Believe me, friends, you do not know me, 
 For I can thunder quite as well. . . . 
 
 " Oaks shall be rent ; the Word shall shatter — 
 Yea, on that fiery day, the Crown, 
 Even the palace walls shall totter, 
 
 And domes and spires come crashing down ! " 
 
 " Germany," his greatest prose work, and " Pictures 
 of Travel," his most popular, are full of the same 
 mingling of scholarly poise and boyish impudence; 
 the same abrupt shifting from intense passion to care- 
 less, or, careful, mockery that is never absent from his 
 poems. VTime and again he builds a structure of the 
 deepest and most poignant emotions only to pull the 
 foundation from under and let the whole thing come 
 tumbling down with a flippant or ridiculous last line. 
 Nor was this petulance a literary sham. Even on his 
 deathbed, when an officious priest advised him to make 
 his peace with God lest he die unforgiven, " I am not 
 worried," Heine said, " Dieu me par dormer a; c'est son 
 metier." 
 
 It is the shrug that masks his agony, and one must 
 Understand this shrug not as an affectation but as a 
 symbol. It is with a shock of delayed recognition that 
 we realize the bitter sharpness of so many of the verses, 
 whose keen edge familiarity has dulled. " You have 
 diamonds and pearls; you have all that men desire. 
 And you have also the fairest of blue eyes — my love, 
 
Preface xi 
 
 what else can you wish for? " Thus, innocently begins 
 the famous " Du hast Diamanten und Perlen " — and 
 we scarcely think of the poem's fierce undercurrent 
 because we are hearing it for the thousandth time set 
 to the genial measures of a gemuthliche folk-tune. 
 
 And it is this very folk-song quality, the same spirit 
 that ranks him with Burns, the unknown minstrels of 
 Spain, and England's border balladists,that insures him 
 his permanence as a poet. Things like " Die Lorelei," 
 " Du bist wie eine Blume," " Lehri deine Wang' an 
 meine Wang'," and a hundred other brief but over- 
 whelming lyrics are immortal for their very obvious- 
 ness. They seem to have nothing to do with litera- 
 ture. One cannot trace their origin or find their 
 beginnings in books. They seem an unconscious part 
 of the world's .speech; as if they always were — born 
 when the language was, with none of the labor of 
 the artist or the file-marks of the craftsman about 
 them. 
 
 And this, possibly more than anything else, makes 
 Heine's triumph the greater; for never were a poet's 
 results more carefully planned. tFar from being for- 
 tuitous, the slightest of his verses were subjected to the 
 most minute and ceaseless changes; To attain that 
 baffling and inevitable naturalness y -he would rewrite 
 a quatrain as many as six or seven times, simplifying 
 it with each new version. No poet ever hated more 
 than he the commonplaces and accepted conventional-, 
 ities of poetic formulae, the cliches and inversions, the 
 archaisms and affectations that have no relation to any- 
 thing but a stilted and aestheticized literature. He was 
 in this like Herrick and Villon and Burns who, as 
 Synge points out, used their daily speech and their 
 own personal life as their material; and the verse 
 
Xll 
 
 Preface 
 
 written in this way was read "by strong men, and 
 thieves, and deacons, not by little cliques only." 
 
 "Don't prettify me!" Whitman said to Traubel, 
 when told of his intended biography. Heine had no 
 Boswell to admonish; he was his own commentator. 
 And he saw to it that the world should have no shiny, 
 smooth and dressed-up portrait of him; — in fact, he 
 uglifiedjiimself. To give a complete picture of him- 
 self as a man, he overemphasized his coarseness, dwelt 
 too lovingly on his carnal vices ; but, with all his most 
 democratic intentions, he found it difficult to reconcile 
 himself to the world and impossible to reconcile the 
 world to him. His highest ambition was to help build 
 a greater and consolidated Germany — and his works 
 were interdicted in his own country ! He counted his 
 poetic gifts little beside his fervor for liberty. He 
 wished to be remembered, not so much for his songs, 
 which gave their deathless impetus to Franz, Jensen, 
 Schubert, and particularly tol.Schumann (in whom 
 they found not only their- greatest composer but their 
 most creative interpreter), but for his struggles toward 
 democracy. These struggles and his hatred of com- 
 placent customs find expression in all his essays no less 
 than his verses. He was as much disgusted with-cant_ 
 and sjtalejormulse when he found them in politics as 
 when he met them in poetry. As in the prolog to 
 " The Harz Journey," he voices his contempt for the 
 " laundered bosoms " and " polished salons," so in all 
 his prose sketches, his reviews and even his letters, this 
 contempt gathers and grows. He longed for the over- 
 throw of smug respectability, for the end of autocracy 
 in government no less than in art. " It must perish," 
 he wrote, " it has been judged and condemned, the old 
 
Preface xiii 
 
 social order — let it meet its due ! Let it be destroyed, 
 the old world where cynicism flourished and where 
 man was exploited by man. Let them be utterly de- 
 stroyed, these whited sepulchers, where lies and injus- 
 tice have had their dwelling place." This fire of en- 
 thusiasm, sweeping through a wasted frame, almost 
 burnt itself out. So fierce was its vigor that Heine 
 often suffered the inevitable revulsion. Physically unfit 
 to mingle with and enjoy crowds, Heine by turns 
 distrusted, feared and scorned the mob. He looked on 
 * a communal future ' with an apprehensive bewilder- 
 ment and misunderstanding that even his satire could 
 not disguise. A year before his death he wrote, " I 
 can think only with anxiety and terror of the time 
 when these dark iconoclasts will have gained power. 
 With their horny hands they will heartlessly smash the 
 marble statues of beauty so dear to my heart. They 
 will destroy the fantastic toys and spangles of Art 
 which the poet loved so much. They will cut down 
 my grove of laurels and plant potatoes in their stead. 
 They will tear from the soil of the social order the 
 lilies that toil not nor spin. . . . The same fate will 
 befall the roses, those idle brides of the nightingales; 
 the nightingales, those useless singers, will be driven 
 out — and alas, my ' Book of Songs ' will be used by 
 the grocer to make the little paper bags in which he 
 will wrap coffee or snuff for the old women of the 
 future." But though the possible triumph of the 
 proletariat "momentarily distressed him, Heine was al- 
 ways the impassioned radical. ! Proud of being a poet, 
 he was prouder of being a protagonist. "Poetry," 
 he wrote in a triumphant sort of climax, " has always 
 been to me a consecrated instrument, a divine play- 
 thing, as it were. And if ye would honor me, lay a 
 
XIV 
 
 Preface 
 
 o/> 
 
 sword rather than a wreath upon my coffin — for I was 
 ever a fearless soldier in the war for the liberation of 
 humanity." 
 
 / And this poet, who helped bring a nation toward 
 freedom, was born chained to his race, and could never 
 escape from himself} The paradox of his life is the 
 thing that helps to "clear all the foregoing carefully- 
 assembled paradoxes. Matthew Arnold has expressed 
 something of it in his "Heine's Grave": 
 
 " The spirit of the world 
 Beholding the absurdity of men — 
 Their vaunts, their feats — let a sardonic smile 
 For one short moment wander o'er his lips. 
 That smile was Heine!" 
 
 And what made that smile even more tragic was the 
 fact that Heine recognized it. Never for a moment 
 could he forget how sardonic it was. 
 
 II. 
 
 But one other fact must be borne in mind to under- 
 stand Heine and his work — the fact of his sickness. 
 The sharp turn of his utterance was not alone caused 
 by a mental twinge, but by a physical twist. Occa- 
 sionally, perhaps, the spirit of the outcast Jew ceased 
 suffering. Not so his body. That was continually be- 
 ing racked and tortured. " Many a time," he wrote to 
 his friend Varnhagen von Ense, " especially when the 
 pains shift about agonizingly in my spinal column, I 
 am moved to doubt whether man is really a two-legged 
 god, as the late Professor Hegel assured me five and 
 twenty years ago in Berlin. When the harvest moon 
 
Preface xv 
 
 was up last year, I had to take to my bed, and since 
 then I have not risen from it ... I am no longer a 
 divine biped ; I am no longer ' the great Heathen, num- 
 ber 2 ' . . .1 am no longer a joyous though slightly 
 corpulent Hellene, smiling gaily down on the melan- 
 choly Nazarene. I am now only an etching of sorrow, 
 an unhappy man — a poor, sick Jew." 
 
 If Heine's ' spiteful and exaggerated bitterness ' still 
 rouses any one's resentment, it should be remembered 
 that besides what his doctors diagnosed as " consump- 
 tion of the spinal marrow " he was afflicted with debts 
 and enemies. Before he was fifty, he was half blind, 
 lame, without the sense of taste or smell ; his lips were 
 paralyzed, his ears were quick to catch any discordant 
 sound (for years this sensitivity had to endure an 
 amateur violinist's practicing) and he was desperately 
 poor besides ; misunderstood, maligned, defrauded and 
 deceived. 1 <This agony, which ended in an eight years' 
 crucifixion on a mattress grave, was with him from 
 the beginning!] Even as a boy it afflicted him; it dis- 
 colored his imagination and perverted his youthful 
 fantasies. We see the results of it in the preternatu- 
 rally gloomy " Dream Pictures " and in his " Youthful 
 Sorrows" (significant titles both!) written between the 
 ages of sixteen and twenty-one. It heightened and dis- 
 torted that romanticism which Heine alternately wor- 
 shiped and mocked. " The thousand years' reign of 
 Romance is over; " he wrote to von Ense. " I myself 
 am its last fairy-king." The classic period had come 
 to an end with Schiller and Goethe, and the Romantic 
 school was dying of its own extravagances and exag- 
 gerations. Kleist, Ruckert, Uhland, Wilhelm Miiller, 
 Eichendorff and Chamisso, that remarkable Frenchman 
 1 Vide William Sharp's " Heine," Chapter VI, 
 
xvi Preface 
 
 who wrote more genuinely German poetry than most 
 of his Teutonic contemporaries, — all of these were 
 loosely joined by the bonds of a tender and patriotic 
 romanticism. With a wealth of color and splendid 
 imagery, Heine surpassed the entire group ; using their 
 very mechanics, he wrought a strange, new music from 
 the old material — and then proceeded to laugh at the 
 artifice of the entire structure. He utilized, with a 
 fresh power and a more imaginative realism, all of 
 the old paraphernalia and properties before discarding 
 them. Sphinxes, moonlight, ruined gardens, nightin- 
 gales, enchanted roses, dead lovers arisen from the 
 grave, wild horsemen, dancing skeletons, giants, mer- 
 maids, loreleys and suicides appear and reappear 
 throughout the poems; but a keen sophistication ap- 
 pears with them. " Heine may be said to be the last 
 of the celebrated German Romantic School, the funeral 
 pyre of which he himself helped to build up in his 
 youth, only to set it ablaze later on with the scorching 
 flame of his own remorseless wit. And, behold, from 
 its ashes arose a strange phcenix, the anti-romantic and 
 modern spirit which justly entitles Heine to be called 
 one of the deliverers of thought, the champion of prog- 
 ress, and the sworn foe of all stagnation." 1 
 
 This creative irreverence, accompanied by a disillu- 
 sioned fantasy and often wanton caprice, creeps into 
 all his prose. Sometimes it even overpowers his larger, 
 political writings. But more often it lifts and illumi- 
 nates them. Heine's individual quality pervades and 
 flavors his voluminous works, whether he is recording 
 local French affairs, writing essays on ' Shakespeare's 
 Maiden and Women,' jotting down journalistic 
 
 1 From Kate Freiligrath KroekerV " Memoir " in her " Poems 
 selected from Heine." 
 
Preface 
 
 xva 
 
 sketches of England, reviewing a musical season, criti- 
 cizing the French Salon, satirizing German literature 
 and German thought, inditing venomous letters or pen- 
 ning a series of exquisite and immortal travel-pictures. 
 The sardonic flashes, the exuberant fancy, the interplay 
 of philosophy and wit makes all he wrote pungent. 
 But it was the poet in him that makes it poignant. 
 
 III. 
 
 This poignancy is naturally at its deepest when 
 Heine's role was his natural self ; in his poems. And, 
 at the risk of being redundant, I repeat that one must 
 continually keep in mind Heine's life and his love- 
 story to understand his poetry to the fullest. For 
 (and here lies the greatest difficulty for the trans- 
 lator) his apparent simplicity often hides an inverted 
 introspection. Most of the poems only half express 
 his meaning; sometimes they do not actually express 
 it at all. Morbidly sensitive and secretive in his life, 
 Heine was equally so in his verse ; time and again he 
 makes his lines talk around his thought rather than on 
 it. Even the simplest and most apparently obvious of 
 the love-songs have a hidden suggestion far deeper than 
 their naivete. See, for a few varied examples in " Die 
 Heimkehr " alone, Number 4 (Im Walde wandl' ich 
 und weine), Number 28 (Was will die einsame 
 Thrdne) and the often translated classic Number 47 
 (Du bist wie eine Blume). This last, for instance, is 
 not the bland, sentimental love-song that it is so often 
 taken for. In the first place, it should be evident 
 from the context, no less than its content, that it is 
 not addressed to any sweetheart but to a very young 
 girl, possibly a child. Seeing the innocent beauty of 
 
XV111 
 
 Preface 
 
 this flower-like creature (so hold und schon und rein) 
 he longs to lay his hands on her forehead, and pray 
 God to keep her always as at present, " so sweet, 
 so fair and pure." One can almost hear Heine taking 
 a breath in his last line; as if, with a half -pathetic, 
 half-cynical perception, he realized the fragility of 
 innocence, and remembered how beauty and purity 
 had betrayed him. 
 
 Always this one note possessed and obsessed him. 
 Heine was constantly pulling himself up to check and 
 disguise it, even in the midst of his singing. Then 
 would come the inevitable reaction — the rush from 
 one extreme to the other; from circumlocutory ret- 
 icence to eager and complete explanation. Such out- 
 pourings of frank revelation occur almost regularly; 
 they are placed like sign-posts at the beginning and 
 end of all his sequences. He becomes distrustful of 
 even his most direct symbols, and, apprehensive lest 
 his readers may not understand all of him, he inter- 
 rupts his series to plead, explain and almost to apolo- 
 gize for himself and his preoccupation with his sor- 
 row. Such a realization is the reason for the lyric 
 prologues to the " Lyrisches Intermezzo " and " Die 
 Heimkehr" and the strange interruption of Number 
 43 in the latter series (Werdet nur nicht ungeduldig) 
 with Heine's personal appeal for the reader's pa- 
 tience. . . . And then the thought of his lost beloved 
 and her deception overwhelms him again! And back 
 he runs to the dark chamber of his introspective gloom. 
 
 How constant was this thought of his betrayal, his 
 eternal ' brooding on the addled eggs of passion,' may 
 best be seen by a perusal of " Die Heimkehr." As in 
 the "Lyrisches Intermezzo," so here he rings the 
 changes on the one theme — with very few changes. 
 
Preface xix 
 
 But a new poignancy enters ; a sharper lyricism caused 
 by Heine's attempts to forget his sadness, and the 
 realization of his inability to do so. Early in 1822, at 
 the age of twenty-three, Heine had published his 
 ' Lyrical Intermezzo,' that burst of ineluctable beauty, 
 in which he had poured his grief and, he hoped, had 
 , buried it. A year later he went to Hamburg, the city 
 which he hated, where he had loved and lost his 
 Amalie ; and although two years had passed since she 
 had married, and although he had presumably written 
 himself out of his old mood, the torments broke forth 
 afresh. Every familiar street, every old acquaintance, 
 every well-known turn, fascinated and tore him. 
 Racked in soul and body ( for his headaches were get- 
 ting more and more acute) he went to Cuxhaven for 
 a six weeks' stay, where the fresh salt winds of the 
 North Sea temporarily soothed and the new environ- 
 ment inspired him. The outcome of all this was 
 ' The Home-Coming,' with its shifting backgrounds of 
 his " verdammtes Hamburg " and his beloved ocean. 
 Time and again he shows in this cycle his effort to 
 escape from the painful memories and the fresh bit- 
 terness awakened by his visit; he tries to forget him- 
 self in his passion for the sea or in brief and spas- 
 modic love-affairs, but without success. After these 
 brilliant interruptions, he is back at his old theme; 
 despondent, tender, coarse, mocking, brutal, unforgiv- 
 ing — hugging always to his bosom the torture of his 
 unhappy love. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In these translations I have endeavored, by the 
 selections chosen, to show Heine's lyrical power not 
 only at its best but at its most characteristic. For this 
 
xx Preface 
 
 reason I have included many poems usually glossed 
 over by his translators; poems that are trivial enough 
 in themselves, but necessary to the series that con- 
 tains them, and necessary also to a complete appre- 
 ciation of Heine's development. I have translated 
 the ' Lyrical Intermezzo ; in its entirety, and prac- 
 tically all of ' The Home-Coming,' the two cycles that 
 represent the poet at his height. I have also included 
 most of ' The North Sea ' poems which, though not 
 always lyric, have the sweep of the sea itself, a defi- 
 nitely musical surge that one finds in some of the best 
 polyrhythmical lines of Whitman and the unrhymed 
 ' voluntaries ' of Henley. Instead of " approaching 
 perilously near ungainly prose " (John Todhunter's 
 incredible dictum) these precursors of modern vers- 
 libre have the sonorous dignity of blank verse blended 
 with the sudden lift and music of a snatch of song. 
 
 To digress technically for a moment, possibly the 
 English paraphraser's greatest difficulty in translating 
 German poetry is the use of " du" and " sie." To 
 use "thou" for " du" often gives a falsely old- 
 fashioned and stilted ring to the entire poem, while 
 " you " is likely to be abrupt and too colloquial. In 
 Heine, the problem is complicated, for he himself often 
 uses the more intimate personal pronoun ironically or, 
 for certain wilful effects, archaically. I have ventured 
 to employ both pronouns without any fixed program ; 
 using " thou " and " you " interchangeably wherever 
 it seemed to fit the context and Heine's purpose best. 
 We have in English no method of showing the shade 
 of difference between the German two, and it is be- 
 cause of this (and incidentally because of an astonish- 
 ing misconception of the poems themselves) that so 
 many of Heine's translators have entirely missed the 
 
Preface xxi 
 
 point of several poems, which bear a piercing reminder 
 or a sarcasm subtler and more stinging than a column 
 of invectives. Examine the lyric Number 27 from 
 ' The Home-Coming ' beginning " Die Jahre kommen 
 und gehen." The last quatrain runs : 
 
 Nur einmal mbcht ich dich sehen, 
 Und sinken vor dir aufs Knie; 
 
 Und sterbend zu dir spree hen: 
 "Madam, ich liebe sie!" 
 
 " Madam, I love but you," Todhunter ineffectually 
 concludes. Even Mrs. Browning, possibly due to her 
 ignorance of German, rendered it, " Lady, I love but 
 thee." And another translator, surpassing them all in 
 incomprehension of the last line, turns Heine's bitterest 
 irony into maudlin sentiment. Thus Robert Levy : 
 
 " Oh, that I once might see you, 
 Kneel to you ! Then would I 
 Say : ' Lady mine, I love you ! ' 
 And speaking so, would die." 
 
 In this lyric, as in two or three others where Heine 
 depends on a pun for his satire, I have had to recon- 
 struct the lines and use a phrase totally unlike the Ger- 
 man to carry out a particular effect. This is also half 
 true of the almost baffling Number 30 in the ' Lyrical 
 Intermezzo.' Here Heine, in an effort to achieve a 
 light ironic emphasis, employs a series of French 
 derivatives with a single rhyme scheme. As embody- 
 ing these intact would leave part of the verses untrans- 
 lated, without even approximating Heine's purpose 
 (for the use of French is not, as it was with the Ger- 
 
xxii Preface 
 
 man writers, a superelegance of language), I have 
 paraphrased them all, depending on a series of the same 
 double rhymes for a similar half -satirical end. 
 
 As to the rhymes throughout the book, I have fol- 
 lowed Heine exactly. With one or two exceptions, 
 I have reproduced the masculine and feminine rhymes 
 as they appear in the original. Certain effects of 
 humor and speed are only possible this way. And, 
 although the single rhyme is the more natural and fre- 
 quent in English poetry while it is almost the reverse 
 in German, I felt it imperative to preserve Heine's 
 own form, both for the sake of the reader and in an 
 attempt to echo some of the music. I regret that in 
 many cases, particularly in the very simplest of the 
 lyrics, that exquisite and fragile music has been broken. 
 Many of his poems, while wholly colloquial in speech 
 and casual and even trite in idea, are transmuted into 
 magic by their word-music and the perfection of vowel 
 and consonant sound. Such properties cannot be trans- 
 planted — the sense can be captured, the magic inevi- 
 tably escapes. I would suggest that, having ascer- 
 tained the meaning, the reader take up the German 
 and read the original for the virgin beauty, the color 
 and cadence of the melodic line. For the reader of 
 German, even for one who has but a smattering of the 
 tongue, this suggestion would be an impertinence. He 
 already knows that Heine, unadulterated and unde- 
 filed, can only be had from Heine's own pages. 
 
 It is only in the hope of bringing the English reader 
 closer to the source that these translations have been 
 prepared. They furnish the key to the paradox of 
 Heine ; they are the words, if not the music to some of 
 his immortal opera. And to instil in the listener 
 an understanding of the masterpiece is the aim and 
 
Preface 
 
 xxm 
 
 hope of a libretto. It is a high purpose; and I will 
 be proud if this version fulfils a part of it. 
 
 L. U. 
 New York City, 
 July, ipi6. 
 
 Note : For all of the translations from " The Book 
 of Songs " and " New Poems " I have used the editions 
 of Carl Krabbe published in Stuttgart, as they seemed 
 more complete and the individual cycles better arranged 
 than in the subsequent and more sumptuous formats. 
 For the balance of the poems (The Romancero, The 
 Lamentations, etc.) I have used "Der Tempel" edition, 
 published in Leipzig. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Preface 
 
 BOOK OF SONGS 
 
 Preface to the Third Edition of Buck der Lieder . "' . . 3 
 
 YOUNG SORROWS 
 
 I dreamt I saw a dwarf in dapper clothing 
 
 Im Traum sah ich ein Mdnnchen, klein und putzig . a 
 Why is my mad blood rushing so? 
 
 Was treibt und tobt mein tolles Blut? 9 
 
 I came from my true love's house and stood 
 
 Ich kam von meiner Herrin Haus . ... 11 
 
 I lay and slept, and slept right well 
 
 Ich lag und schlief, und schlief recht mild . . . . 17 
 
 SONGS 
 
 When I am withrny own adored 
 
 Wenn ich bei meiner Liebsten bin 21 < 
 
 Mornings I arise and wonder 
 
 M or gens steh' ich auf und frage . ... 21 
 
 It drives me here, it drives me there 
 
 Es treibt mich hin, es treibt mich her! . . . 21 
 
 I wandered under the branches 
 
 Ich wandelte unter den B'dumen . . .22 
 
 Beloved, lay your hand on my heart in its gloom 
 
 Lieb Liebchen, leg's Hdndchen aufs Heme mein . . 23 
 I wish that all my love-songs 
 
 Ich wollte, meine Lieder . . . . -23 
 
 Lovely cradle of my sorrow 
 
 Schone Wiege meiner Leiden 24 
 
 Hill and hall are mirrored brightly 
 
 Berg' und Burgen schaun herunter .... 25 
 
 I despaired at first, declaring 
 
 Anfangs woUt" ich fast verzagen 25 ■* 
 
 When young-hearts break with passion 
 
 Wenn junge Herzen brechen 26 
 
 •', XXV 
 
xxvi Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 There's green on the meadow and river 
 
 Die Walder und F elder griinen . ... 26 
 
 I shall go and walk in the woods a space 
 
 Ich will mich im griinen Wald ergehn .... 27 
 
 That I must love you, Mopser 
 
 Dass ich dich Hebe, o Mbpschen 27 
 
 The Nuptial Eve 28 
 
 Zum Polterabend 
 
 ROMANCES 
 
 The Mountain Echo 
 
 Die Bergstimme 33 
 
 Poor Peter 
 
 Der arme Peter 34 
 
 The Grenadiers 
 
 Die Grenadiere 35 
 
 The Message 
 
 Die Botschaft 37 
 
 The Minnesingers 
 
 Die Minne s'dnger 38 
 
 The Wounded Knight 
 
 Der wunde Ritter 39 
 
 The Lesson 
 
 Die Lehre 39 
 
 Absolutely ! 
 
 Wahrhaftig! 40 
 
 LYRICAL INTERMEZZO 
 
 All my anguish, all my rages 
 
 Meine Qual und meine Klagen 
 Prolog 
 
 Es war mal ein Ritter, trubselig und stumm 
 
 1. 'Twas in the magic month of May 
 
 Im wunderschonen Monat Mai 
 
 2. Out of my tears and sorrows 
 
 Aus meinen Thranen spriessen 
 
 3. The rose and the lily, the dove and the sun 
 
 Die Rose, die Lilje, die Taube, die Sonne 
 
 4. Whene'er I gaze into thine eyes 
 
 Wetvn ich, in deine Augen seh' 
 
 5. Your face so sweet and fair, it seems 
 
 Dein Angesicht, so lieb und schdn 
 
 43 
 43 
 45 
 45 
 46 
 46 
 46 
 
Contents 
 
 xxvn 
 
 6. Oh lean thy cheek upon my cheek 
 
 Lehn' deine Wang' an meine Wang" .... 47 
 
 7. I will baptize my spirit 
 
 Ich will meine Seele tauchen . . . . 47 
 
 8. Immovable for ages 
 
 Es stehen unbeweglich . . . . 47 
 
 9. Upon the wings of Song, love 
 
 Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges .... 48 -•— 
 
 10. The lotus-flower cowers 
 
 Die Lotosblume angstigt ... 49 
 
 11. In the Rhine, that stream of wonder 
 
 Im Rhein, im schonen Strome . ... 49 
 
 12. You love me not — you love me not 
 
 Du liebst mich nicht, du liebst mich nicht ... 50 
 
 13. O come, love — now I resign me 
 
 Du sollst mich liebend umschliessen . 50 
 
 14. O kiss me, love, and never swear 
 
 O schwore nicht und kiisse nur ... -Si 
 
 15. Upon my dearest's little eyes 
 
 Auf meiner Herzliebsten Augelein . . S 1 
 
 16. The world is dull, the world is blind 
 
 Die Welt ist dumm, die Welt ist blind .... 52 
 
 17. Come, and you shall tell me, dearest 
 
 Liebste, sollst mir heute sagen: S 2 
 
 18. Like the Foam-born, my love glows in 
 
 Wie die Wellenschaumgeborene .... S3 
 
 19. I will not mourn altho' my heart be torn 
 
 Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Hers auch bricht . 53 z=^ 
 
 20. Yes, thou art wretched, and I do not mourn 
 
 Ja, du bist elend, und ich grolle nicht . 54 
 
 21. Oh what a piping and shrilling 
 
 Das ist ein Floten und Geigen . ... 54 
 
 22. So now thou hast forgotten wholly 
 
 So hast du gam und gar vergessen 55 
 
 23. And were it made known to the flowers 
 
 Und wiissten's die Blumen, die kleinen . . 55 — 
 
 24. Oh why are all the roses so pale 
 
 Warum sind denn die Rosen so Mass .... 56 
 
 25. They have told you many stories 
 
 Sie haben dir viel erzdhlet . . ... 56 
 
 26. The linden bloomed and the nightingale sang 
 
 Die Linde bliihte, die Nachtigall sang . . 57 
 
 27. How deep we were wrapped in each other's life 
 
 Wir haben viel fur einander gefiihlt . . . 58 
 
XXV1U 
 
 Contents 
 
 28. I have no faith in Heaven 
 
 Ich glaub' nicht an den Himmel . 
 
 29. You were steadfast and true the longest 
 
 Du bleibest mir treu am liingsten . 
 
 30. The earth kept hoarding up its treasure 
 
 Die Erde war so lange geizig . 
 
 31. And thus, as I wasted so many a day 
 
 Und als ich so lange, so lange gesdumt 
 
 32. The violets blue which are her eyes 
 
 Die blauen Veilchen der Augelein . 
 
 33. The world is so fair and the heavens so blue 
 
 Die Welt ist so schon und der Himmel so 
 
 34. Love, when you sink where darkness lies 
 
 Mein susses Lieb, wenn du im Grab . 
 
 35. A pine tree stands so lonely 
 
 Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam 
 
 36. Stars, with fair and golden ray 
 
 Schone, helle, goldne Sterne . 
 
 37. Oh were I but the stool that she 
 
 Ach, wenn ich nur der Schemel war' . 
 
 38. Since my love and I did part 
 
 Seit die Liebste war entfernt . 
 
 39. From grief too great to banish 
 
 Aus meinen grossen Schmerzen 
 
 40. It will not die, but solely 
 
 Ich kann es nicht vergessen . 
 
 41. Smug burghers and tradesmen are tripping 
 
 Philister in Sonntagsrocklein . 
 
 42. From graves of times forgotten 
 
 Manch Bild vergessener Zeiten 
 
 43. A young man loves a maiden 
 
 Ein Jiingling liebt ein Madchen . 
 
 44. Friendship, Love, the Philosopher's stone 
 
 Freundschaft, Liebe, Stein der Weisen 
 
 45. I hear an echo singing 
 
 HbY ich das Liedchen klingen 
 
 46. Now all of the flowers are gazing 
 
 Es schauen die Blumen alle . 
 
 47. I dreamed of the daughter of a king 
 
 Mir tr'dumte von einem Konigskind 
 
 48. My dearest, we nestled devoted 
 
 Mein Liebchen, wir sassen beisammen 
 "49. From ancient fairy-stories 
 
 Aus alt en Mdrchen winkt es , 
 
 blau 
 
X 
 
 Contents xxix 
 
 50. I loved thee once — and I love thee now 
 
 Ich hab' dich geliebet und Hebe dich noch! 
 
 Si. On a radiant summer morning 
 
 Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen 
 
 52. My love and its dark magic 
 
 Es leuchtet meine Liebe . 
 
 53. Many have made me wretched 
 
 Sie hab en mich g equate t . 
 
 54. The golden flame of Summer 
 
 Es liegt der heisse Sommer . 
 
 55. When two who love are parted 
 Wenn zwei von einander scheiden 
 
 ,6. 'Twas tea-time — the mildly esthetic 
 
 Sie sassen und tranken am Theetisch 
 
 57. My songs, they say, are poisoned 
 
 Vergiftet sind meine Lieder . 
 
 58. Again the old dream came to me: 
 
 Mir trdumte wieder der alte Traum 
 
 59. I stand on the mountain's summit 
 
 Ich steh' auf des Berges Spitse . 
 
 60. My carriage rolls on slowly 
 
 Mein Wagen rollet langsam 
 
 61. I wept as I lay dreaming 
 
 Ich hab' im Traum geweinet . . . 
 
 62. Beloved, in dreams we often meet 
 
 Allndchtlich im Traume seh' ich dich 
 
 63. A howling storm is brewing 
 
 Das ist ein Brausen und Heulen .... 
 
 64. Wild Autumn shakes the branches 
 
 Der Herbstwind riittelt die Bourne 
 
 65. A star, a star is falling 
 
 Es fallt ein Stern herunter 
 
 66. The Dream-God led me to a castle grim 
 
 Der Traumgott brack? mich in ein Riesenschloss 
 
 67. 'Twas midnight, still and very cold 
 
 Die Mittemacht war kalt und stumm . 
 
 68. They buried him at the cross-roads 
 
 Am Kreuzweg wird begraben 
 
 69. Now the night grows deeper, stronger 
 
 Wo ich bin, mich rings umdunkelt 
 
 70. Night lay upon my eyelids 
 
 Nacht lag auf meinen Augen 
 
 71. The songs, so old and bitter 
 Die alien bosen Lieder ' 
 
xxx Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE HOME-COMING 
 
 I. In my life's enshrouded darkness 
 
 In mein gar zu dunkles Leben 87 
 
 V-2. I do not know why this confronts me 
 
 Ich weiss nicht, was soil es bedeuten .... 87 
 
 3. My heart is full of sorrow 
 
 Mein Hers, mein Hers ist traurig .... 88 
 
 4. I pace the greenwood, bitter 
 
 Im Walde wandl' ich und weine 89 
 
 5. The night is wet and stormy 
 
 Die Nacht ist feucht und stiirmisch 90 
 
 6. By chance I met on my journey 
 
 Als ich auf der Reise zufdllig 91 
 
 7. We sat at the hut of the fisher 
 
 Wir sassen am Fischerhause 92 
 
 8. Oh lovely fishermaiden 
 
 Du schones Fischermadchen 93 
 
 9. The yellow moon has risen 
 
 Der Mond ist aufgegangen 94 
 
 10. The moon is lying on the clouds 
 
 Auf den Wolken ruht der Mond 94 
 
 11. Wrapped in clouds, as in a mantle 
 
 Eingehullt in graue Wolken 95 
 
 12. The wind pulls up his water-spouts 
 
 Der Wind sieht seine Hosen an 96 
 
 13. The storm tunes up for dancing 
 
 Der Sturm spielt auf sum Tanse 96 
 
 14. I pass your little window 
 
 Wenn ich an deinem House 97 
 
 15. The vastness of the ocean shone 
 
 Das Meer ergl'dnste weit hinaus 97 
 
 16. High up on yonder mountain 
 
 Da droben auf jenem Berge g8 
 
 17. My sweetheart has a lily 
 
 Die Lilje meiner Liebe 99 
 
 18. Wrapped in the distant sunset 
 
 Am fernen Horisonte 99 
 
 19. Greetings to thee, oh city 
 
 Sei mir gegriisst, du grosse 100 
 
 20. The old paths and familiar streets 
 
 So wandl' ich wieder den alten Weg .... 101 
 
 21. I stood as in a spell 
 
 Ich trat in jene Hallen 101 
 
Contents xxxi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 22. The night is still; the streets are quiet 
 
 \/'StUl ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen . . 101 
 
 23. How can you sleep so soundly 
 
 Wie kannst du ruhig schlafen ... . 102 
 
 24. A maiden lies in her chamber 
 
 Die Jungfrau schliift in der Kammer . . . 103 
 
 25. I stood bewildered, seeing 
 
 Ich stand in dunkeln Tr'dumen 104 
 
 26. I, unfortunate Atlas ! A whole world 
 
 Ich ungliicksel'ger Atlas! eine Welt .... 104 
 
 27. The years keep coming and going 
 
 Die Jahre kommen und gehen .... 105 
 
 28. What means this lonely tear-drop 
 
 Was will die einsame Thrdne . . . . 105 
 
 29. The pale, autumnal half-moon 
 
 Der bleiche, herbstliche Halbmond . . 106 
 
 30. Well, this is awful weather 
 
 Das ist ein schlechtes Wetter 107 
 
 31. They think that I am tortured 
 
 Man glaubt, dass ich mich grime . . . 108 
 
 32. Oh, your slim, white lily-fingers 
 
 Deine weissen Liljenfinger ... . . 109 
 
 33. " Has she never even shown you " 
 
 "Hat sie sich denn nie geaussert" .... 109 
 
 34. They loved one another, though neither 
 
 Sie liebten sich beide, doch keiner . . . .110 
 
 35. When I told of my sorrows that wounded and tore 
 
 Und als ich euch meine Schmerzen geklagt . .110 
 
 36. I called the devil and he came 
 
 Ich rief den Teufel und er kam 11 1 
 
 37. Mortal, mock not at the devil 
 
 Mensch, verspotte nicht den Teufel .... in 
 
 38. My child, we once were children 
 
 Mein Kind, wir war en Kinder 112 
 
 39. My heart is crushed with grief, for sadly 
 
 Das Herz ist mir bedriickt, und sehnlich . . . 113 
 
 40. As the moon through heavy cloud-drifts 
 
 Wie der Mond sich leuchtend drdnget . . .114 
 
 41. I saw in a dream the Beloved 
 
 Im Traum sah ich die Geliebte I IS 
 
 42. Why, my friend, this same old fretting 
 
 Teurer Freund! Was soil es nutzen . ■ 116 
 
 43. Listen; do not grow impatient 
 
 Werdet nur nicht ungeduldig . ... 116 
 
xxxii Contents 
 
 44. Now it is time that I should start 
 
 Nun ist es Zeit, dass ich mit Ver stand . . . 117 
 
 45. The good king Wiswamitra 
 
 Den K'dnig Wiswamitra . ... 117 
 
 46. Heart, my heart, let naught o'ercome you 
 
 Herz, mein Hers, sei nicht beklommen . 118 
 
 N--^7. Child, you are like a flower 
 
 Du bist wie eine Blume .118 
 
 48. Child, I know 'twould be your ruin 
 
 Kind! es ware dein Verderben . ... 119 
 
 49. When I lie down for comfort 
 
 Wenn ich auf dem Lager liege . ... 119 
 
 50. Girl whose mouth is red and laughing 
 
 Mddchen mit dem roten Miindchen . 120 
 
 Si. Snows and storms may whirl in torrents 
 
 Mag da draussen Schnee sich tiirmen 120 
 
 52. Did not my pallid face betray 
 
 Verriet mein Masses Angesicht . . . 121 
 
 53. " Ah, my friend, you are in love " 
 
 " Teurer Freund, du bist verliebt" 121 
 
 54. I sought your side, the only 
 
 Ich wollte bei dir weilen . . . 122 
 
 55. Sapphires are those eyes of yours 
 
 Saphire sind die Augen dein . . 122 
 
 56. I have lied to win you, precious 
 
 Habe mich mit Liebesreden . . . 123 
 
 57. Life in this world is a muddled existence — 
 
 Zu fragmentarisch ist Welt und Leben . . . 124 
 
 58. My head and brain are almost broken 
 
 Ich hab' mir long den Kopf zerbrochen . . . 124 
 
 59. They're having a party this evening 
 
 Sie haben heut Abend Gesellschaft . . 124 
 
 60. Oh, that I could capture my sadness 
 
 Ich wollf meine Schmerzen ergossen . . 125 
 
 61. You've pearls and you've diamonds, my dearest 
 
 Du hast Diamanten und Perlen . . . 126 
 
 62. He who, for the first time, loves 
 
 Wer sum erstenmale liebt . . . 126 
 
 63. In your tepid soul and vapid 
 
 Zu der Lauheit und der Flauheit . 127 
 
 64. Oh loveliest of ladies, may 
 
 O, mein gn'ddiges Fraulein, erlaubt . 127 
 
 65. Of words and advice they were the donors 
 
 Gaben mir Rat und gute Lehren 127 
 
Contents 
 
 xxxiu 
 
 PAGE 
 
 66. This most amiable youngster 
 
 Diesen liebenswurd'gen Jungling . . . . 126 
 
 67. I dreamt I was the dear Lord God 
 
 Mir trdumt: ich bin dir liebe Gott .... 129 
 
 68. Torn from bright lips I loved; departing sadly 
 
 Von schonen Lippen fortgedrdngt, getrieben . . 131 
 
 69. Alone in the dim post-wagon 
 
 Wir fuhren allein im dunkeln . . . . 131 
 
 70. Like a dark dream the houses 
 
 Wie dunkle Trdume stehen . ... 132 
 
 71. With kisses my lips were wounded by you 
 
 Hast da die Lippen mir wund gekusst . 133 
 
 72. And when you're once my wedded wife 
 
 Und bist du erst mein ehlich Weib . . 133 
 
 73. When I am enwrapped in her tender embraces 
 
 Als sie mich umschlang mit z'drtlichem Pressen . 134 
 
 74. Oh what lies there are in kisses ! 
 
 In den Kiissen, welche Luge . . . 134 
 
 75. Upon your snow-white shoulder 
 
 An deine schneeweisse Schulter ... . 135 
 
 76. The blue Hussars go bugling 
 
 Es blasen die blauen Husaren . . . 135 
 
 77. In my youth when Love was yearning 
 
 Hdbe auch in jungen Jahren ... . . 136 
 
 78. Have you really grown to hate me? 
 
 Bist du wirklich mir so feindlich . . . 136 
 
 79. Ah, those eyes again which always 
 
 Ach, die Augen sind es wieder 137 
 
 80. 'Tis a heavenly pleasure indeed 
 
 Himmlisch war's, wenn ich beswang . . 137 
 
 81. Hard to understand your gabble 
 
 Selten habt ihr mich verstanden . . 138 
 
 82. And still the eunuchs grumbled 
 
 Dock die Kastraten klagten . .... 138 
 
 83. On the walls of Salamanca 
 
 Auf den W'dllen Salamankas . 139 
 
 84. As soon as we met we were 'wrapped in each other 
 
 Kaum sahen wir uns, und an Augen und Stimmen 139 
 
 85. Over the mountains the sun throws his fire 
 
 uber die Berge steigt schon die Sonne 140 
 
 86. In Halle's market-place 
 
 Zu Halle auf dem Markt . 140 
 
 87. Lovely and efficient lady 
 
 Schone, wirtschaftliche Dame ... .141 
 
xxxiv Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 88. Softly now the summer twilight 
 
 D'dmmernd Uegt der Sommerabend . ■ 14 1 
 
 89. Night lies on the strange, dark roadways 
 
 Nacht Uegt auf den fremden Wegen . 14 2 
 
 90. Death — it is but the long, cool night 
 
 Der Tod, das ist die kiihle Nacht .... 14 2 
 
 91. " Where is now your precious darling " 
 
 "Sag, wo ist dein schones Liebchen" . 143 
 
 Dusk of the Gods 
 
 Gotterdammerung 143 
 
 Donna Clara 
 
 Donna Clara 146 — ~\- 
 
 The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar 
 
 Die Wallfahrt nach Kevlaar 150 
 
 THE HARZ JOURNEY 
 
 Prolog 1 
 
 Prolog 157 
 
 A Mountain Idyl] 
 
 Berg-Idylle 158 
 
 The Herd-Boy 
 
 Der Hirtenknabe 166 
 
 On the Erocken 
 
 Auf dem Brocken 167 
 
 The Ilse 
 
 Die Use 168 
 
 THE NORTH SEA— FIRST CYCLE 
 
 Coronation 
 
 Kronung 173 
 
 Twilight 
 
 Abendd'dmmerung 174 
 
 Night on the Strand 
 
 Die Nacht am Strande 175 
 
 Poseidon 
 
 Poseidon 178 
 
 Declaration 
 
 Erkl'drung 180 
 
 A Night in the Cabin 
 
 Nachts in der Kajiite 181 
 
 Storm 
 
 Sturtn . . . . , 181 
 
Contents xxxv 
 
 Calm at Sea 
 
 Meeresstille 183 
 
 Peace 
 
 Frieden 184 
 
 THE NORTH SEA— SECOND CYCLE 
 
 Sea Greeting 
 
 Meergruss . 187 
 
 Sunset 
 
 Untergang der Sonne . 189 
 
 The Gods of Greece 
 
 i^Die Gotter Griechenlands 191 
 
 Questions 
 
 Fragen 194 
 
 The Phoenix 
 
 Der Ph'dnix 195 
 
 Sea-tSickness 
 
 Seekrankheit 196 
 
 Epilog 
 
 Epilog ... 199 
 
 NEW POEMS 
 
 NEW SPRING 
 
 Now the wood blooms like a maiden 
 
 In dem Walde spriesst und grunt es . 205 
 
 Lightly swinging bells are ringing 
 
 Leise zieht durch mein Gemiit 205 
 
 The butterfly is in love with the rose 
 
 Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt . . . 206 
 All the trees are full of music 
 
 Es erklingen alle B'dume 206 
 
 " In the beginning was the Word " 
 
 Im Anfang war die Nachtigall 207 
 
 I must go forth, the bells are pealing 
 
 Es drdngt die Not, es I'duten die Glocken . . . 208 
 The deep, blue eyes of Springtime 
 
 Die blauen Fruhlingsaugen 208 
 
 The slender water-lily 
 
 Die schlanke Wasserlilie 209 
 
XXXVI 
 
 Contents 
 
 9. Your eyes' blue depths are lifted 
 Mit deinen blauen Aug en 
 
 10. The rose is fragrant — but can she be feeling 
 
 Die Rose duftet — doch ob sie empfindet 
 
 11. As the moon's pale image trembles 
 
 Wie die Mondes Abbild zittert 
 
 12. Our hearts have made a holy 
 
 Es haben unsre Herzen . 
 
 13. Kisses that one steals in darkness 
 
 Kiisse, die man stiehlt im Dunkeln 
 
 14. There was an aged monarch 
 
 Es war ein alter K'dnig . 
 
 15. In memory many pictures 
 
 In meiner Erinnrung erbliihen 
 
 16. Every day I send you violets 
 
 Morgens send' ich dir die Veilchen 
 
 17. Your letter does not move me 
 
 Der Brief, den du geschrieben 
 
 18. Do not fear that I'll betray my 
 
 Sorge nie, dass ich verrate 
 
 19. Stars with golden feet are walking 
 
 Sterne mit den goldnen Fusschen . 
 
 20. The sweet desires blossom 
 
 Die holden Wiinsche bluhen 
 
 PAGE 
 
 209 
 210 
 210 
 210 
 211 
 211 
 212 
 212 
 213 
 213 
 214 
 214 
 
 A MISCELLANY 
 
 Seraphine 
 
 1. Night has come with silent footsteps 
 
 An dem stillen Meeresstrande . . . 217 
 
 2. I was aware you loved me 
 
 Dass du mich liebst, das wusst' ich . . 217 
 
 3. Upon these rocks we shall erect 
 
 Auf diesen Felsen bauen wir 218 
 
 4. Shadow-love and shadow-kisses 
 
 Schattenkusse, Schattenliebe . . 219 
 
 5. Upon the shore, a maiden 
 
 Das Fraulein stand am Meere . . . 2ig 
 
 6. With great, black sails my ship sails on 
 
 Mit schwarzen Segeln segelt mein Schiff 219 
 
 7. I've told no man how shameful 
 
 Wie sch'dndlich du gehandelt . 220 
 
 8. The waves draw in and stumble 
 
 Es siehen die brausenden Wellen . . . 220 
 
Contents xxxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 9. The runic stone juts into the sea 
 
 Es ragt ins Meer der Runenstein . . 221 
 
 10. The sea is sparkling in the sun 
 
 Das Meer erstrahlt im Sonnenschein . . 221 
 
 Angelique 
 
 1. Although you hurried coldly past me 
 
 Wie rasch du auch voruberschrittest . . . 222 
 
 2. How from such a chance beginning 
 
 Wie entwickeln sich dock schnclle . . 222 
 
 3. Ah, how sweet you are, confiding 
 
 Ach, wie schon bist du, wenn traulich . . . 223 
 
 4. I close her eyes, and keep them tight 
 
 Ich halte ihr die Augen zu . . . 224 
 
 5. When in your arms and in our kisses 
 
 Wenn ich, beseligt vom schonen Kiissen . . 224 
 
 6. Do not fear, my love; no danger 
 
 Furchte nichts, geliebte Seele . . . 225 
 
 7. Don't send me off, now that your thirst 
 
 Schaff mich nicht ab, wenn auch den Durst 225 
 
 8. This mad carnival of loving 
 
 Dieser Liebe toller Fasching . ... 226 
 
 Hortense 
 
 1. We stood upon the corner, where 
 
 Wir standen an der Strasseneck .... 227 
 
 2. In all my dreams by daylight 
 
 In meinen Tagestr'dumen 227 
 
 3. Deep within a lovely garden 
 
 Steht ein Bourn im schonen Garten . . . 228 
 
 4. The words you keep repeating 
 
 Nicht lange tduschte mich das Gliick . . . 228 
 
 YOLANDA AND MARIE 
 
 1. Which of them shall I fall in love with? 
 
 In welche soil ich mich verlieben . . . 229 
 
 2. Flowers on your breast — I heed 'em ! 
 
 Vor der Brust die trikoloren . ... 229 
 
 3. Youth is leaving me ; but daily 
 
 Jugend, die mir taglich schwindet . . 230 
 
 Emma 
 
 1. He stands as stark as a tree-trunk 
 
 Er steht so starr wie ein Baumstamm . . . 230 
 
 2. Emma, tell me, tell me truly: * 
 
 Emma, sage mir die Wahrheit ... 1 231 
 
 3. Now with shadows, dull and dreary 
 
 Schon mit ihr en schlimmsten Schatten . .231 
 
xxxviii Contents 
 
 Catherine 
 
 i. A lovely star has risen in my night 
 
 Em schoner Stem geht auf in meiner Nacht . 232 
 
 2. You lie in my arms so gladly 
 
 Du liegst mir so gem im Arme . . ■ 232 
 
 3. I love this white and slender body 
 
 Ich Hebe solche weisse Glieder .... 233 
 
 Kitty 
 
 1. Eyes that I had long forgotten 
 
 Augen, die ich Idngst vergessen . ■ . 234 
 
 2. Your love for me (so says my pride) 
 
 Mir redet ein die Eitelkeit ... . 234 
 
 3. The sun is fair when it sinks in splendor 
 
 Es gldnzt so sch'dn die sinkende Sonne . 235 
 
 4. Her letter leaves me breathless — 
 
 Er ist so herzbeweglich ... . . 235 
 
 5. Swift as a deer, my bark 
 
 Es Vduft dahin die Barke . . . . 236 
 
 6. The joy that kissed me yesterday 
 
 Das Gluck, das gestem mieh gekiisst . . 236 
 
 Jenny 
 
 My years now number five and thirty 
 
 Ich bin nun funfunddreissig Jahr' alt . . 237 
 
 Abroad 
 
 1. " Oh this dear, delightful poet " 
 
 O, des liebenswiird'gen Dichters . . 238 
 
 2. To-day you are so plunged in sorrow 
 
 Du bist ja heut so grambefangen . . . 239 
 
 "•v^^. I had, long since, a lovely Fatherland 
 
 Ich hatte einst ein schemes Vaterland 240 
 
 Tragedy 
 
 1. " Oh fly with me and be my love " 
 
 EntMeh mit mir und sei mein Weib . 240 
 
 2. The hoar-frost fell on a night in Spring 
 
 Es fiel ein Reif in der Friihlingsnacht . . 241 
 
 3. Upon their grave a tree stands now 
 
 Auf ihrem Grab da steht eine Linde . . . 241 
 
 BALLADS 
 
 A Woman 
 
 Ein Weib . . 24s 
 
 Spring Festival 
 
 Fruhlingsfeier 245 
 
Contents xxxix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Adjuration 
 
 Die Beschworung 246 
 
 Anno 1829 
 
 Anno 1829 . . 247 
 
 Psyche 
 
 Psyche 248 
 
 The Unkown 
 
 Die Unbekannte . . . 249 
 
 Away! 
 
 Lass ab ,.,.-.... 250 
 
 A Meeting 
 
 Begegnung ■« •.«... . 251 
 
 The Faithless Louisa 
 
 Die ungetreue Luise 252 
 
 POEMS FOR THE TIMES 
 Doctrine 
 
 Doktrin 257 
 
 A Warning 
 
 Warnung 257 
 
 Degeneration 
 
 Entartung 258 
 
 Henry . 
 
 Heinrich 259 
 
 To George Herwegh 
 
 An Georg Herwegh 260 
 
 A Topsy-Turvy World 
 
 Verkehrte Welt 260 
 
 Germany 
 
 Deutschland 261 
 
 Only Wait! 
 
 Wartet nur! 262 
 
 /The Weavers 
 
 Der Weber 263 
 
 Four Songs 
 
 Through my heart the most beguiling 
 
 Es erklingt wie Liebestone 264 
 
 Yellow roses as an offering — 
 
 Was bedeuten gelbe Rosen 264 
 
 We laugh and we are troubled 
 
 Wir miissen zugleich uns betruben .... 264 
 It makes a man feel happy 
 
 Das macht den Menschen gliicklich . . . 265 
 
xl Contents 
 
 ROMANCERO 
 
 LAMENTATIONS, LAZARUS AND LAST POEMS 
 
 When all men have betrayed your trust 
 
 Wenn man an dir Verrat geiibt . . . . 269 
 
 Prolog 
 
 Prolog 269 
 
 The Asra 
 
 Der Asra . 269 
 
 From the Prelude 
 
 Prdludium 270 
 
 Farewell 
 
 Lebewohl 270 
 
 Mythology 
 
 Mythologie 271 
 
 Security _ 
 
 Soliditat ... 272 
 
 Auto-da-fe 
 
 Auto-da-fe 272 
 
 Morphine 
 
 Morphine . . 273 
 
 Solomon 
 
 Salomo . . . 274 
 
 How slowly Time, the frightful snail 
 
 Wie langsam kriechet sie dahin . . . . 274 
 
 Mediaevalism's crudeness 
 
 Mitteralterliche Roheit 27s 
 
 Epilog 
 
 Epilog 276 
 
 Where? 
 
 Wo? 277 
 
 Enfant perdu 
 
 Enfant perdu 277 
 
 Hymn 
 
 Hymnus 279 
 
 Alphabetical Index of First Lines in German ... 281 
 
BOOK OF SONGS 
 
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 "BOOK OF SONGS" 
 
 Das ist der alte Marchenwald 
 
 It is the old, enchanted wood; 
 
 The linden-tree's in flower, 
 The mystic glamors of the moon 
 
 Bewitch me with their power. . . . 
 
 I wandered on, and as I went 
 I heard the heavens ringing; 
 
 Of love and all the pain of love 
 The nightingale was singing. 
 
 Of love and all the pain of love 
 She sang; of tears and laughter — 
 
 So sad her mirth, so sweet her sobs, 
 That dead dreams followed after. 
 
 I wandered on, and as I went 
 
 A wide space lay before me. 
 And there, with towering spires, there rose 
 
 A castle huge and stormy. 
 
 Barred were its windows ; over all 
 
 Lay grief and silence, giving 
 The sense that in these wasted walls 
 
 Nothing but Death was living. 
 3 
 
Book of Songs 
 
 Before the door there lay a Sphinx, 
 
 Half-horrible, half-human; 
 A lion's form in body and claws, 
 
 The forehead and breast — a woman. 
 
 A woman fair! Her marble gaze 
 Was sensuous and commanding. 
 
 Her dumb lips curved into a smile 
 Of secret understanding. 
 
 The nightingale so sweetly sang, 
 What use was my resistance — 
 
 I kissed her radiant face, and that 
 Transformed my whole existence. 
 
 For lo, the marble statue woke; 
 
 The stone was touched with fire; 
 She drank the fervor of my kiss 
 
 With an unslaked desire. 
 
 She drank my very breath from me 
 
 And then, with lustful ardor, 
 Her lion's claws sank in my flesh, 
 
 Holding me closer, harder. 
 
 Oh exquisite torture, rapturous wounds ! 
 
 The pain and the pleasure unending — 
 For while I was thrilled with the kiss of her 
 mouth, 
 
 The claws were tearing and rending. 
 
 The nightingale sang " Oh wondrous Sphinx ; 
 
 Oh Love, why all this distressing 
 Mingling of death-like agony 
 
 With every balm and blessing? 
 
Book of Songs 5 
 
 " Oh lovely Sphinx ! Explain to me 
 This riddle that puzzles sages. 
 
 I've pondered on it hopelessly, 
 Alas, for many ages." 
 
 — All this I could have said just as well in decent 
 prose. . . . But when one reads over one's old poems, 
 freshening a phrase here and there, and touching them 
 up for a new printing, the lyric habit of rhyme and 
 rhythm steals over one imperceptibly — and lo! it is 
 with verse that I open this third edition of the 
 " Book of Songs." 
 
 Oh Phoebus Apollo! if these verses be bad thou 
 wilt surely forgive me. . . . For thou art an all-wise 
 god, and thou knowest well enough why it was that 
 many years have passed since I have busied myself 
 exclusively with the measuring and harmonizing of 
 words. . . . Thou knowest why the flame which once 
 delighted the world with its brilliant display of fire- 
 works was suddenly turned to a more serious blaze. 
 . . . Thou knowest why this silently glowing fire is 
 now consuming my heart. Thou dost understand me, 
 great and glorious god; for even so didst thou ex- 
 change, now and again, the golden lyre for the mighty 
 bow and the death-dealing arrows. . . . Dost thou not 
 still remember Marsyas, whom thou didst flay alive? 
 That was long ago, and a similar example may be 
 necessary. . . . Thou smilest, oh my eternal Father ! 
 
 Heinrich Heine. 
 
 Written in Paris, February 20, 1839. 
 
YOUNG SORROWS 
 
 (1817-1821) 
 
Im Traum sah ich eirt Mannchen, klein und putzig 
 
 I dreamt I saw a dwarf in dapper clothing, 
 
 Who walked on stilts, his steps an ell or more. 
 
 Sported white linen — but the stuff he wore 
 Was black inside: one saw the dirt with loathing. 
 Within he was all sham; a fuss and frothing 
 
 To draw attention from the rotting core. 
 
 He talked of being brave, and was a bore. 
 His courage was all cant, and came to nothing. 
 
 " And do you know that man, or can you guess? " 
 The Dream-god asked me ; and he showed me then 
 A picture of a church. . . . And of all men 
 The dwarf was at the altar, nothing less, 
 My love beside him; both were saying " Yes! " 
 And twice a thousand devils laughed " Amen ! " 
 
 Was treibt und tobt mein tolles Blut? 
 
 Why is my mad blood rushing so? 
 Why is my heart in such a glow? 
 My blood speeds like an angry dart, 
 And seething fires consume my heart. 
 
 My blood is boiling, foaming, mad, 
 Because of an evil dream I've had. . . 
 He came, the shadowy son of Night, 
 And bore me, gasping, in his flight. 
 9 
 
io Book of Songs 
 
 He brought me to a brilliant house 
 Where harps and lights and gay carouse 
 And revelers raised a merry din. 
 I reached the hall; I entered in. 
 
 It was a wedding revelry; 
 The guests were seated smilingly. 
 And when the happy pair I spied — 
 Alas! My darling was the bride. 
 
 It was my love — the blushing bride ! 
 A smiling stranger at her side. 
 I crept up close behind their chair 
 And silently I waited there. 
 
 The music grew ; I stood quite still ; 
 The happy clamor made me ill. 
 The bride, with ecstasy possessed, 
 Folded the bridegroom to her breast. 
 
 I saw the bridegroom fill his glass 
 
 And drink and with a gesture pass 
 
 The wine to her. She drank and laughed. — 
 
 And, woe ! It was my blood they quaffed. 
 
 The bride then took an apple, and 
 Put it into the bridegroom's hand. 
 He took a knife and cut it straight. — 
 And, woe ! It was my heart they ate. 
 
 Their looks were long, their glances blazed ; 
 He held her lovingly embraced, 
 Kissing her hot cheeks passionately. — 
 And, woe ! 'Twas Death's cold lips on me. 
 
Young Sorrows n 
 
 My tongue lay in my mouth like lead — 
 I could not speak, the words fell dead. 
 And then — the music through the hall, 
 The bridal couple leading all ! 
 
 I stood there, lost to all the world ; 
 The dancers round about me swirled. 
 His words grew warm, his whispers bold : 
 She reddened — but she did not scold. . . . 
 
 Ich karri von meiner Herrin Haus 
 
 I came from my true love's house and stood, 
 Wrapped in a dark and midnight mood, 
 Within a lonely churchyard where 
 The tombstones glistened bright and bare. 
 
 It was the glimmering moon that shone 
 Still brighter on the Minstrel's stone. 
 I heard, "Wait, brother, — the hour flies." 
 And, pale as the mist, I saw him rise. 
 
 It was the Minstrel, bone for bone, 
 Who rose and sat on his crumbling stone; 
 And he grasped his zither and sang this song 
 In a voice that was hollow and harsh and strong : 
 
 " Ha ! do ye know the old refrain 
 Ye strings, that echoed with its pain? 
 
 Know ye the name thereof?' 
 The angels call it Heaven's desire, 
 The devils call it Hell's own fire, 
 
 And man, he calls it — Love ! " 
 
12 Book of Songs 
 
 Scarce had he shouted the final word 
 When all the buried people stirred. 
 Up from their graves they rose, and sprang 
 About the Minstrel as they sang: 
 
 " Love, oh Love, your power has led 
 Us to this, our final bed. 
 Eyes are closed in a quiet head — 
 Why do you call and rouse the dead ? " 
 
 And loudly they rattled and whimpered and wailed, 
 They chattered and clattered and rumbled and railed ; 
 And madly the swarm ran round and about 
 While the Minstrel played, and sang with a shout : 
 
 " Bravo ! Bravo ! Madmen still ! 
 
 Welcome, madmen, 
 
 Good and bad men, 
 
 That my magic words could thrill ! 
 
 Ye who lie, year in, year out, 
 
 In a dark and dusty drought, 
 
 Let this be a merry rout! 
 
 But look first 
 
 If there's any one about. 
 
 Fools we were when we were living, 
 
 While our burning blood was giving 
 
 Us a mad and passionate thirst. 
 
 Now, for pastime and for glory, 
 
 Every one shall tell his story; 
 
 Tell what brought him to this place; 
 
 How he fared 
 
 And was snared 
 In Love's mad and furious chase." 
 
Young Sorrows 13 
 
 And then from the circle, as light as the wind, 
 There hopped a lean phantom who hummed as he 
 grinned : 
 
 "A tailor's lad was I, sirs, 
 
 (With needle and with shears,) 
 I was so slick and spry, sirs, 
 
 (With needle and with shears.) 
 My master's daughter tricked me 
 
 (With needle and with shears,) 
 And to the heart she pricked me 
 
 (With needle and with shears.") 
 
 The spirits all laughed till their skeletons shook ; 
 And a second stepped forth with a serious look : 
 
 " O, Rinaldo Rinaldini, 
 
 Robin Hood and Orlandini, 
 
 And Carl Moor (the best of those) 
 
 Were the models that I chose. 
 
 " I too, in a milder fashion, 
 Like these brigands, tasted passion; 
 While a certain lady's face 
 Haunted me from place to place. 
 
 "All my hopes were crushed and saddened; 
 And when Love at last grew maddened, 
 My mad fingers, growing rash, 
 Dipped into my neighbor's cash. 
 
 " But a watchman who was jealous 
 Said my mourning was too zealous; 
 Said I tried to dry my griefs 
 In my neighbor's handkerchiefs. 
 
14 Book of Songs 
 
 " Then the old policemen caught me ; 
 To the station-house they brought me; 
 And the great, gray prison pressed 
 Me to its maternal breast. 
 
 "Thoughts of love (I could not choke 'em) 
 Plagued me still while picking oakum ; 
 Till Rinaldo's shadow passed 
 And released my soul at last." 
 
 The spirits all laughed with a boisterous shout; 
 And powdered and perfumed, a third stepped out : 
 
 " As king of the boards I had striven 
 
 To play every amorous role; 
 How often I ranted, ' Oh heaven ! ' 
 
 And whispered a wild, ' Ah, my soul.' 
 
 "As Romeo none could do better; 
 
 (My Juliet was always so fair !) 
 Though I acted my lines to the letter 
 
 She never would answer my prayer. 
 
 " One night, as I started to stagger 
 At the end, and as ' Juliet ! ' I cried, 
 
 I stuck the sharp point of the dagger 
 A little too deep in my side." 
 
 The spirits all laughed with a boisterous shout; 
 And, clad in a white cloth, a fourth stepped out : 
 
 " The professor talked of the spirit and letter; 
 
 He talked, and he talked — and I slept right well. 
 But one thing of his I enjoyed far better: 
 
 His daughter, more lovely than words could tell. 
 
Young Sorrows 15 
 
 " For me were her eyes and the smiles that she 
 lavished, 
 
 My flower of flowers, my Love's own light ! 
 But my flower of flowers was stolen and ravished 
 
 By a sour philistine, a wealthy old blight. 
 
 " Then I cursed all rich scoundrels and women 
 together; 
 The devil's own brew I prepared at the end. 
 Then drank with Lord Satan (two birds of a 
 feather) ; 
 He hiccuped ' Fiducit, old Death is your 
 friend.' " 
 
 The spirits all laughed with a boisterous shout ; 
 And, a rope 'round his neck, a fifth stepped out : 
 
 " The Count, he boasted and bragged at his wine 
 Of his daughters divine and his jewel so fine. 
 Your jewel, dear Count, may be ever so fine, 
 But truly, I'd rather your daughter were mine. 
 
 " The Count kept them both under lock, bolt and 
 
 key; 
 And a houseful of servants to guard them had he. 
 What mattered his locks and his servants to me — 
 I got me a ladder and mounted with glee. 
 
 " I stood at her window with ardor and joy, 
 When I heard a voice calling beneath me, ' Ho, 
 
 boy! 
 Fine doings, my lad, but give me my share — 
 I'm also in love with the jewel that's there.' 
 
1 6 Book of Songs 
 
 " And thus the Count jeered at and mocked me, 
 
 the while 
 His servants flocked 'round, with a sinister smile. 
 ' The devil ! ' I cried, ' Do you think I would 
 
 thieve ? 
 I came for my love, which I'll take by your 
 
 leave.' . . . 
 
 " But anger availed not, nor pleadings nor 
 
 prayers ; 
 And they marched in a solemn parade down the 
 
 stairs. 
 When the sun rose, she started, astonished to see 
 The gallows so shining and heavy — with me." 
 
 The spirits all laughed in a boisterous shout; 
 With his head in his hand, a sixth stepped out : 
 
 " Love drove me to the poacher's trade, 
 And, musket on my arm, I strayed 
 Beneath the trees where ravens scoff 
 And croak and cough : ' Heads — off ! Heads — 
 off!' 
 
 " Oh, if I only saw a dove 
 I'd bring it home to my true love ; 
 So I mused on, and every tree 
 Received my hunter's scrutiny. 
 
 " What do I hear? What billing's that? 
 Two turtle-doves ! . I've got 'em pat. 
 I crept up close; I caught the pair — 
 And lo! I found my own love there! 
 
Young Sorrows 17 
 
 " It was my nestling dove, my bride ; 
 A strange man snuggling at her side — 
 Now, you old marksman, aim, aim well! 
 There, in his blood, the stranger fell. 
 
 " Soon, through the woods, the hangman's crew, 
 With me, chief actor, in review 
 Passed the same trees where ravens scoff 
 And croak and cough: 'Heads — off! Heads — 
 off.' " 
 
 The spirits all laughed in a boisterous chorus; 
 Until the Minstrel himself stepped before us : 
 
 " I once had a song that I cherished, 
 
 But that sweet song is gone. 
 When the heart has loved and perished 
 
 Then all of our singing is done." 
 
 And the crazy laughter grew twice as loud, 
 As the circle swayed wide with its ghostly crowd. 
 The bells struck " One "... and, to a man, 
 Howling into their graves they ran. 
 
 Ich lag und schlief, und schlief recht mild 
 
 I lay and slept, and slept right well, 
 
 Free of the old despair; 
 When in my deepest dream there fell 
 
 The vision, fond and fair. 
 
1 8 Book of Songs 
 
 Her face was like a marble girl's 
 But lovelier with the change; 
 
 Her eyes had the cold sheen of pearls, 
 And her bright hair was strange. 
 
 And softly, without stir or start, 
 
 That maiden, marble-pale, 
 Came and lay down upon my heart, 
 
 Mutely and marble-pale. . . . 
 
 I throb and thrill with hot unrest, 
 
 The maddest fevers rise; 
 No throb nor thrill shakes her fair breast 
 
 That is as cold as ice. 
 
 " No throb nor thrill can stir my breast 
 
 That is as cold as ice. 
 Yet I know Love's eternal quest, 
 
 Its pain and paradise. 
 
 " My mouth and heart's unwarmed with blood. 
 No red stream courses through. 
 But do not shudder — think how good 
 And kind I am to you." 
 
 She held me tight until the dawn, 
 
 Struggling to no avail. 
 A cock crowed once . . . and she was gone, 
 
 The maiden, marble-pale. 
 
SONGS 
 
Wenn ich bei meiner Liebsten bin 
 
 When I am with my own adored, 
 Oh then my heart beats high ; 
 
 I am as rich as any lord, 
 The world is mine to buy! 
 
 But every time I leave her, then 
 My wealth, that seemed secure, 
 
 Is spent — and I am once again 
 The poorest of the poor. 
 
 'Morgens steh' ich auf und jrage 
 
 Mornings I arise and wonder 
 
 Will she come to-day? 
 Evening passes, still I ponder, 
 
 Still she stays away. 
 
 In the night with heavy cumber 
 
 Sleeplessly I lie; 
 And half-dreaming, half in slumber, 
 
 All my days go by. 
 
 Es treibt mick hin, es treibt mich her! 
 
 It drives me here, it drives me there ; 
 Soon, in an hour or two, I shall meet her, 
 Yes, she herself, and what thing could be sweeter- 
 Heart of mine, why are you throbbing with care? 
 
22 Book of Songs 
 
 The hours are such a lazy lot ! 
 
 Creeping along with one foot dragging, 
 Going the rounds, yawning and lagging — 
 
 Come, stir yourselves, you lazy-bones! 
 
 Now I am seized with the madness of speed. 
 
 Oh, but they never were lovers, these hours; 
 
 Banded together with hideous powers 
 They mock at the lover's unrest and his need. 
 
 Ich wandelte unter den B'dumen 
 
 I wandered under the branches 
 
 Alone with my despair; 
 Touched with a host of memories 
 
 I fell to dreaming there. 
 
 " Who taught you that word, oh, you songsters, 
 
 You linnets that circle and soar? 
 Oh cease, for whenever I hear it 
 
 My heart is afflicted once more." 
 
 " A girl came singing it always ; 
 
 From her own lips we heard, 
 And all of us birds recaptured 
 
 That lovely, golden Word." 
 
 " Oh, how can you tell such a story, 
 You birds, so sagacious and sly; 
 
 You also would capture my sorrows — : 
 But I will trust no one, not I." 
 
Songs 23 
 
 Lieb Liebchen, leg's Handchen aufs Herze mein 
 
 Beloved, lay your hand on my heart in its gloom. 
 Do you hear that ! Like tapping inside of a room ? 
 A carpenter lives there. With malice and glee 
 He's building a coffin — a coffin for me. 
 
 He hammers and pounds with such fiendish delight 
 I never can sleep, neither daytime nor night. 
 Oh, carpenter, hurry the hours that creep ; 
 Come, finish your labors — and then I can sleep. 
 
 Ich wollte, meine Lieder 
 
 I wish that all my love-songs 
 Were flowers bright and rare; 
 
 I'd send them to my dearest 
 And she might find them fair. 
 
 I wish that all my love-songs 
 Were kisses that could speak ; 
 
 I'd send them to my dearest 
 To hang about her cheek. 
 
 I wish that these, my love-songs, 
 Were peas, so firm and fat ; 
 
 I'd make a nice, rich pea-soup — 
 And she would relish that ! 
 
24 Book of Songs 
 
 Schone Wiege meiner Leiden 
 
 Lovely cradle of my sorrow, 
 
 Lovely tomb where peace would dwell, 
 Smiling town, we part to-morrow ; 
 
 I must leave, and so farewell. 
 
 Farewell threshold, where still slowly 
 
 Her beloved footstep stirs ; 
 Farewell to that hushed and holy 
 
 Spot where first my eyes met hers. 
 
 Had you never caught or claimed me, 
 Fairest, heart's elected queen, 
 
 Wretchedness would not have maimed me 
 In its toils — as you have seen. 
 
 Never have you found me grieving 
 For your heart with loud despair; 
 
 All I asked was quiet living, 
 Quietly to breathe your air. 
 
 But you drove me forth with scourging, 
 Bitter words and lashing scorn; 
 
 Madness in my soul is surging, 
 And my heart is flayed and torn. 
 
 And<E'take my staff and stumble 
 On a journey, far from brave; 
 
 Till my head droops and I tumble 
 In some cool and kindly grave. 
 
Songs 25 
 
 Berg' und Burgen schaun herunter 
 
 Hill and hall are mirrored brightly 
 In the clear glass of the Rhine; 
 
 And my little ship sails lightly 
 Where the sunlit waters shine. 
 
 Quietly I watch the shaken, 
 Golden billows at their play; 
 
 And the thought still comes to waken 
 What I hoped was laid away. 
 
 For the stream leaps to enamor 
 With its warm and laughing light ; 
 
 But I know, for all its glamor, 
 Death is in its heart — and night. 
 
 Stream, you are my love completely; 
 
 She can also smile and sin ; 
 She, like you, can laugh so sweetly — 
 
 Fair outside, and false within! 
 
 Anfangs wollt' ich fast verzagen 
 
 I despaired at first, declaring 
 
 It could not be borne; and now — 
 
 Now I bear it, still despairing. 
 Only never ask me how ! 
 
26 Book of Songs 
 
 Wenn junge Herzen brechen 
 
 When young hearts break with passion 
 The stars break into laughter, 
 
 They laugh and, in their fashion, 
 Gossip a long time after: 
 
 " Poor souls, those mortals languish 
 With Love; 'tis all they cherish. 
 
 It pays them back with anguish 
 And pain until they perish. 
 
 " We never can discover 
 
 This Love, so brief and breathless, 
 So fatal to each lover — 
 
 And hence we stars are deathless. 
 
 Die Wdlder und Felder griinen 
 
 There's green on the meadow and river ; 
 
 The lark seeks a loftier height; 
 And Spring has come in with a quiver 
 
 Of perfume and color and light. 
 
 The lark's song has opened the prison 
 Of winter-moods, stubborn and strong; 
 
 Yet out of my heart has arisen 
 A fragment of sorrowful song. 
 
 The lark's all a-twitter and cheery : 
 
 " Oh, what makes your singing so drear ? 
 
 The song is an old one, my dearie, 
 J've sung it for many a year. 
 
Songs 27 
 
 'Tis the same ballad, no other, 
 
 With its burden of sorrowful rhymes — 
 Why, darling, your own grandmother 
 
 Has heard it a score of times! 
 
 Ick will mich im gr'unen Wald. ergehn 
 
 I shall go and walk in the woods a space, 
 Where flowers are gay and birds are singing; 
 For when I am once laid six feet under, 
 With eyes and ears that are closed to wonder, 
 I shall not see one flower lift its face 
 Nor hear one bird's song set the silence ringing. 
 
 Dass ich dich liebe, o Mopschen 
 
 That I must love you, Mopser, 
 You surely understand; 
 
 For when I feed you sugar 
 You always lick my hand. 
 
 You're nothing but a doggie 
 And only pose as such. 
 
 All of my other friends, alas, 
 Disguise themselves too much. 
 
28 Book of Songs 
 
 THE NUPTIAL EVE 
 i. 
 
 Mit deinen grossen allwissenden 'Augen 
 
 Yes, you are right. Your lingering glances 
 Brim with a truth that makes me sad. 
 
 How could we two have met Life's chances— 
 You are so good, and I so bad. 
 
 I am so bitter and malicious; 
 
 Even my gifts bear wry respect 
 To you, who are so sweet and gracious 
 
 And oh, so righteously correct. 
 
 2. 
 
 O, du kanntest Koch und Kiiche 
 
 Oh, you knew the cook and kitchen, 
 Every turn and nook and bin; 
 
 In our childhood plays and struggles 
 You would be the one to win. 
 
 Now you've won my own beloved, 
 That is droll; but, truth to tell, • 
 
 This, my friend; is even droller: 
 I must smile and wish you well ! 
 
Songs 29 
 
 3- 
 O, die Liebe macht uns selig 
 
 " Oh, 'tis Love that makes us grateful, 
 Oh, 'tis Love that makes us rich ! " 
 
 So sings man, and every fateful 
 Echo bears his amorous speech. 
 
 You, you know the song's own spirit 
 
 And its inner meaning, too; 
 Joyfully you wait and hear it 
 
 Till the great day dawns for you. 
 
 Till the bride, with a caressing 
 
 Smile is yours, from head to feet, 
 
 And her father gives his blessing — 
 And a few things more concrete. 
 
 Linen, silver by the crateful, 
 
 Silks with many a costly stitch. . . . 
 
 Oh, 'tis Love that makes us grateful, 
 Oh, 'tis Love that makes us rich ! 
 
3° Book of Songs 
 
 4- 
 Der weite Boden ist uberzogen 
 
 The ground is carpeted with flowers, 
 The woods are a triumphal arch; 
 
 And songsters in a thousand bowers 
 Strike up a glad and welcoming march. 
 
 It is the Spring who enters, spreading 
 Joy from his gay and sparkling eyes ! . . . 
 
 You should have asked him to your wedding, 
 For he goes gladly where true love lies. 
 
ROMANCES 
 
THE MOUNTAIN ECHO 
 
 Ein Reiter durch das Bergthal zieht 
 
 'A horseman through a valley rode 
 
 Singing a solemn stave : 
 " Am I nearer now to my true love's arms, 
 Or am I nearer the grave ? 
 There was no answer, save 
 "Nearer the grave." 
 
 And farther still the horseman rode, 
 And a sigh broke from his breast : 
 " Though I must pass to my last abode, 
 Perhaps the grave brings rest." 
 And echo half-expressed 
 " The grave brings rest." 
 
 The horseman wept a single tear 
 
 And from his cheek it fell, 
 " And if in the grave there's rest for me 
 Then all in the grave is well." 
 And echo rose to tell 
 "The grave is well." 
 
 33 
 
34 Book of Songs 
 
 POOR PETER 
 
 i. 
 
 Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum 
 
 Oh Hansel and Gretel are dancing around, 
 There's shouting and clapping of hands there; 
 But Peter looks on with never a sound, 
 And, paler than chalk, he stands there. 
 
 For Hansel and Gretel are bridegroom and bride, 
 Around them the radiance lingers; 
 But Peter, in workaday clothes, turns aside; 
 He mutters, and bites his fingers. 
 
 Poor Peter still gazes; his grief is intense 
 And, watching the pair, he starts sighing : 
 " Oh were it not for my good, common sense 
 I'd end all my sorrows by dying." . . ,.. 
 
 2. 
 
 "In meiner Brust, da sitzt ein Weh" 
 
 " Within my breast there's such a woe 
 
 That I am torn asunder. 
 It stirs, and though I stay or go 
 
 It drives me always yonder. 
 
 " It drives me to my love, it cries 
 As though she still could heal me. 
 
 Alas, one look from Gretel's eyes 
 And I must fly, conceal me. 
 
Romances 35 
 
 " I climb the mountain's highest peak : 
 
 Man is, at least, alone there; 
 Where all is still and none may seek 
 
 My heart may weep and moan there." 
 
 3- 
 Der arme Peter wankt vorbei 
 
 Poor Peter, he goes stumbling by 
 As pale as lead, ashamed and shy. 
 And all the people stand and stare 
 Whenever Peter passes there. 
 
 The girls all whisper, " Give him room, 
 He must have risen from the tomb." 
 Ah no, my dears, your anguish save; 
 He's only going to his grave. 
 
 He's lost his love; his future's dim 
 And so the grave's the place for him. 
 For there his tortured spirit may 
 Await in peace the Judgment Day. 
 
 THE GRENADIERS 
 
 Nach Frankreich zogen zwei Grenadier' 
 
 Toward France there journeyed two grenadiers 
 
 Who had been captured in Russia; 
 And they hung their heads and their eyes had tears 
 
 As they came to the border of Prussia. 
 
36 Book of Songs 
 
 They heard the terrible news again 
 That France had been lost and forsaken; 
 
 Her armies were beaten, her captains were slain, 
 And the Emperor, the Emperor was taken ! 
 
 Together they wept, these two grenadiers, 
 To one thing their thoughts kept returning — 
 
 "Alas," cried one, half-choked with tears, 
 " Once more my old wound is burning." 
 
 The other said, " The tale is told : 
 
 I'd welcome Death about me, 
 But I've a wife and child to hold; 
 
 What would they do without me?" 
 
 " What matters wife ? What matters child ? 
 
 With far greater cares I am shaken ; 
 Let them go and beg with hunger wild — 
 
 My Emperor, my Emperor is taken! 
 
 " And this, oh friend, my only prayer 
 
 When I am dying, grant me : 
 You'll carry my body to France and there 
 
 In the sweet soil of France you'll plant me. 
 
 " The cross of honor with crimson band 
 
 Lay on my heart to cheer me ; 
 Then put my musket in my hand 
 
 And strap my sabre near me. 
 
 " And so I will lie and listen and wait 
 Like a sentinel, down in the grass there. 
 
 Till I hear the roar of the guns, and the great 
 Thunder of hoofs as they pass there. 
 
Romances 37 
 
 " And the Emperor will come, and his columns will 
 wave; 
 
 And the swords will be flashing and rending — 
 And I will arise, full-armed from the grave, 
 
 My Emperor, my Emperor attending ! " 
 
 THE MESSAGE 
 Mein Knecht! steh auf und sattle schnell 
 
 My page! arise and quickly mount 
 
 The horse of swiftest stride; 
 And breathlessly, through wood and field, 
 
 To Duncan's palace ride. 
 
 Wait softly in the stable there 
 
 Until you are espied; 
 Then ask, " Which one of Duncan's girls 
 
 Is going to be a bride? " 
 
 And if they say " The dark-haired one " 
 Then rush home like the blast. 
 
 But if they say " The light-haired one " 
 You need not ride so fast. 
 
 But in the village buy a rope, 
 A rope with toughened strands. 
 
 Then ride back slowly, speak no word, 
 And place it in my hands. 
 
38 Book of Songs 
 
 THE MINNESINGERS 
 Zu dem Wettgesange schreiten 
 
 Come the minnesingers, raising 
 Dust and laughter and lament. 
 
 Here's a contest that's amazing; 
 Here's a curious tournament. 
 
 Wild and ever restless Fancy 
 Is the minnesinger's horse; 
 
 Art his shield; the Word his lance; he 
 Bears them brightly round the course. 
 
 Many women pleased and pleasant, 
 Smile and drop a flower down; 
 
 But the right one's never present 
 With the rightful laurel-crown. 
 
 Other fighters nimbly canter 
 To the lists, care-free and whole; 
 
 But we minnesingers enter 
 
 With a death-wound in our soul. 
 
 And the one who wrings the inmost 
 Song-blood from his burning breast, 
 
 He's the victor; he shall win most 
 Praise and smiles and all the rest. 
 
Romances 39 
 
 THE WOUNDED KNIGHT 
 
 lch weiss eine alte Runde 
 
 I know an old, old story ; 
 
 Sad is the sound thereof : 
 A knight lies worn and wounded 
 
 With grief for a faithless love. 
 
 He knows her faithless and scorns her 
 
 Yet hangs on her wretchedly; 
 He knows his passion is shameful, 
 
 Yet knows it is stronger than he. 
 
 He dreams he might ride to the tourney 
 And shout with a challenging stir, 
 
 " Let him prepare for the death-blow 
 Who finds a blemish in her ! " 
 
 But well he knows there'd be silence 
 
 From all save his own unrest; 
 And his own lance would have to be leveled 
 
 At his loud and accusing breast. 
 
 THE LESSON 
 
 Mutter zum Bienelein 
 
 " Little bee, little bee, 
 Careful — stay close to me." 
 But what a bee should hear 
 Falls on a heedless ear. 
 
40 Book of Songs 
 
 Soon to the light he flies, 
 Deaf to his mother's cries 
 Calling him tremblingly: 
 "Little bee! Little bee!" 
 
 Blood of youth, never tame, 
 Seeks the eternal flame, 
 Where it burns fierce and free. 
 " Little bee— little bee." 
 
 Now with a mighty breath 
 Flame seeks a flaming death . . 
 " Careful — beware of joy — 
 Oh, my boy! Little boy!" 
 
 ABSOLUTELY! 
 
 Wenn der Friihling kommt mit dem Sonnenschein 
 
 When the Spring comes in and the sun is bright 
 Then every small blossom beckons and blows ; 
 When the moon on her shining journey goes 
 Then stars swim after her through the night. 
 When the singer looks into two clear eyes 
 Then something is stirred and sweet lyrics arise . . . 
 But flowers and stars and the songs just begun, 
 And moonbeams and eyes and the light of the sun, 
 No matter how much such stuff may please, 
 One can't keep living on things like these. 
 
LYRICAL INTERMEZZO 
 
 (1822-1823) 
 
LYRICAL INTERMEZZO 
 Meine Qual und meine Klagen 
 
 All my anguish, all my rages, 
 
 I have poured and nought concealed here; 
 And, if you should turn these pages, 
 
 You will find my heart revealed here. 
 
 PROLOG 
 
 Es war mal ein Ritter, triibselig und stumm 
 
 There once was a knight full of sorrow and doubt, 
 With cheeks white as snow; indecision 
 
 Would cause him to totter and stagger about 
 As though he were trailing a vision. 
 
 And he was so wooden, so awkward and dumb 
 
 That flowers and maidens, whene'er he would 
 come, 
 Would watch him and laugh in derision. 
 
 And often he'd sit in his gloom-shrouded place 
 (From men and their joys he had broken) 
 
 And hold out his arms in a yearning embrace, 
 Though never a word would be spoken . . . 
 
 But just as the hours to midnight now ran, 
 
 A marvelous singing and ringing began, 
 With a knock at his door for a token. 
 43 
 
44 Book of Songs 
 
 And lo, his love enters — a zephyr that blows; 
 
 Of shimmering sea-foam her dress is; 
 She glows and she grows like the bud of a rose, 
 
 Her veil gleams with gems; and her tresses 
 Fall to her feet in a golden array; 
 Her eyes are impassioned. The lovers give way 
 
 And yield to each other's caresses. 
 
 He holds her so close that his heart almost breaks. 
 
 The wooden one now is afire ; 
 The pallid one reddens, the dreamer awakes, 
 
 The bashful is bold with desire. 
 But she, she coquettes and she teases, and then 
 [With her magical veil she must blind him again, 
 
 Who blindly does nought but admire. 
 
 In a watery palace of crystalline light 
 
 She has 'witched him, and all that was bitter 
 
 Grows golden and fair, all is magic and bright; 
 His eyes are bemused with the glitter. 
 
 The nixie still presses him close to her side; 
 
 The knight is the bridegroom, the nixie the bride — ■ 
 Her maidens keep playing the zither. 
 
 Oh sweetly they sing and sweetly they play; 
 
 Fair feet in the dances are shown there ; 
 The knight in his ardor is swooning away 
 
 And tighter he clasps her, his own there . . . 
 Then all in an instant is plunged into gloom, 
 And our hero is sitting once more in his room. 
 
 In his poet's dim garret — alone there ! 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 45 
 
 1. 
 
 Im wunderschonen Monat Mai 
 
 'Twas in the magic month of May 
 When all the buds were springing, 
 
 My heart was filled with fervors, 
 With dreams, and young Love clinging 
 
 'Twas in the magic month of May 
 When every bird was singing; 
 
 I poured out all the raptures 
 With which my heart was ringing. 
 
 2. 
 'Aus meinen Thrdnen spriessen 
 
 Out of my tears and sorrows 
 The blossoming flowers arise, 
 
 And nightingales in choir 
 Are born of all my sighs. 
 
 Dear girl, if you will love me 
 Those flowers to you I'll bring- 
 
 And here before your window 
 The nightingales will sing. 
 
46 Book of Songs 
 
 3- 
 Die Rose, die Lilje, die Taube, die Sonne 
 
 The rose and the lily, the dove and the sun, 
 I loved them all once — before Love had begun. 
 I love them no more. I worship now solely 
 The one and the only most holy and lowly. 
 She herself is the spirit of all these in one; 
 Being Rose and the Lily, the Dove and the Sun. 
 
 Wenn ich in deine Augen seh' 
 
 iWhene'er I gaze into thine eyes 
 Then all my grief and sorrow flies; 
 And when I kiss thy mouth, oh then 
 I am made well and strong again. 
 
 And when I lean upon thy breast 
 My soul is soothed with godlike rest; 
 But when thou sayest, " I love but thee ! " 
 Then I must weep — and bitterly. 
 
 5- 
 Dein Angesicht, so lieb und schon 
 
 Your face so sweet and fair, it seems 
 A vision only seen in dreams ; 
 So seraph-like, so mild and frail, 
 And still so pale, so sadly pale. 
 
 Only your lips are red, and they 
 Soon kissed by Death turn cold and gray; 
 And dimmed will be the azure skies 
 That lie within those holy eyes. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 47 
 
 6. 
 Lehn deine Wang' an meine Wang' 
 
 Oh lean thy cheek upon my cheek, 
 
 Our tears thus shall mingle and flow, love! 
 
 And to my heart press close thy heart, 
 The flames beating so, love, shall glow, love ! 
 
 And when the leaping radiance glows 
 With tears like torrents thronging, 
 
 And when my arms are enfolding thee close 
 I die of Love — and longing! 
 
 7- 
 Ich will meine Seele tauchen 
 
 I will baptize my spirit 
 
 In the lily's glowing core; 
 The lily shall tremble and hear it — 
 
 A song of the one I adore. 
 
 That song shall live and have me 
 Thrilled with a subtle power, 
 
 Like the kiss that once she gave me 
 In a sweet and poignant hour. 
 
 8. 
 Es steken unbeweglich 
 
 Immovable for ages 
 
 The stars are set above; 
 They look upon each other 
 
 With all the pain of Love. 
 
48 Book of Songs 
 
 And oh, they speak a language, 
 So wondrous, each to each, 
 
 That not the wisest scholar 
 Can understand their speech. 
 
 But I have learned it, and never 
 Can I hear it again unmoved ; 
 
 For lo, I used as a grammar 
 The face of my beloved ! 
 
 9- 
 'Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges 
 
 Upon the wings of Song, love, 
 I would bear thee far, and go 
 
 Where the Ganges ripples along, love — 
 There is a place I know : 
 
 In the moonlight's glow and glister 
 
 Fair gardens radiate; 
 Eager to greet their sister 
 
 The lotus-flowers wait. 
 
 Violets tease one another 
 
 And gaze at the stars from the vales; 
 Roses are telling each other, 
 
 Secretly, sweet-scented tales. 
 
 And lightly, trespassing slowly, 
 Come the placid, timid gazelles; 
 
 Far in the distance, the holy 
 River rises and swells. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 49 
 
 My own, we two should sink there 
 
 Beneath a. palm by the stream; 
 And Love and Quiet drink there, 
 
 And dream a peaceful dream. 
 
 10. 
 Die Lotosblume angstigt 
 
 The lotus-flower cowers, 
 
 Under the sun's bright beams; 
 
 Humble and bowed with meekness 
 She waits for the night among dreams. 
 
 The Moon, he is her lover, 
 He wakes her with his gaze; 
 
 To him alone she uncovers 
 The fair flower of her face. 
 
 She glows and grows more radiant, 
 
 And gazes mutely above; 
 Breathing and weeping and trembling 
 
 With love — and the pain of love. 
 
 11. 
 
 Im Rheittj im schonen Strome 
 
 In the Rhine, that stream of wonder, 
 The great, the holy Cologne 
 
 Is mirrored, and there under 
 The waves the Cathedral is shown. 
 
50 Book of Songs 
 
 The Cathedral has within it 
 
 A portrait done in gold; 
 And, in my wild life's sin, it 
 
 Has taken a wondrous hold. 
 
 J Mid flowers and angels she stands there 
 Our Lady we bow before . . . 
 
 But the eyes and the lips and the hands there 
 Are those of the one I adore ! 
 
 12. 
 Du lubst mich nicht, du liebst mich nicht 
 
 You love me not — you love me not. 
 
 Oh that's a trivial thing, dear; 
 For when I see your face, my lot 
 
 Is that of any king, dear. 
 
 You hate me, hate me — even this; 
 
 Your red lips dare declare it ! 
 Oh, let me have those lips to kiss 
 
 And I, my child, can bear it. 
 
 13- 
 Du sollst mich liebend umschliessen 
 
 Oh come, love — now I resign me, 
 I yield myself to your charms; 
 
 Oh come, that you may intertwine me 
 With the tenderest, supplest of arms. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 51 
 
 And winding thus and wounding, 
 Embracing and crushing, is shown 
 
 The fairest of serpents surrounding 
 The happiest Laocoon. 
 
 14. 
 
 schwore nicht und kiisse nur 
 
 Oh kiss me, love, and never swear, 
 For women's oaths are light as air ! 
 Your speech is sweet, but sweeter is 
 The silent answer in your kiss ! 
 'Tis this alone that has my faith — 
 The word is but a perfumed breath. 
 
 Well, swear then, love; oh, swear away; 
 I will believe each word you say ! 
 And as I sink upon your breast 
 I will believe that I am blessed; 
 I will believe your love of me 
 Stretches beyond Eternity. 
 
 15- 
 
 Auf meiner Herzliebsten Augelein 
 
 Upon my dearest's little eyes 
 
 1 make the best cansoni. 
 Upon her mouth, so small in size, 
 
 The best of tersa rima. 
 Upon my darling's cheeks, likewise 
 
 I make the loveliest stanzas . . . 
 And if she had a heart, upon it 
 I'd make a really charming sonnet. 
 
52 Book of Songs 
 
 16. 
 Die Welt ist dumm, die Welt ist blind 
 
 The world is dull, the world is blind. 
 
 Each day more of a mad one ! 
 It says, my dear, that, to its mind, 
 
 Your character's a bad one. 
 
 The world is dull, the world is blind. 
 
 Its dullness is really distressing; 
 It does not know how clinging and kind 
 
 Are your kisses that burn with their blessing. 
 
 17- 
 Liebste, so list mir heute sagen: 
 
 Come, and you shall tell me, dearest, 
 Are you not a thing of dreams, 
 
 Such as, when the Summer's clearest, 
 From the poet's fancy streams ? 
 
 Ah, but no — a mien so mild, dear, 
 Such a mouth and eyes that wait ; 
 
 Such a loving, lovely child, dear, 
 Not a poet could create. 
 
 Basilisks whose glances freeze or 
 Hippogriffs and dragons dire; 
 
 Horrid, fabled things like these are 
 Fashioned in the poet's fire. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 53 
 
 But yourself and your pretenses, 
 
 And those eyes that could not hate, — 
 
 And those false and fervent glances 
 Not a poet could create. 
 
 18. 
 Wie die W ellenschaumgeborene 
 
 Like the Foam-born, my love glows in 
 Splendor and her beauty's pride, 
 
 For she is the happy chosen 
 One to be a stranger's bride. 
 
 Tho' this treason may be hard on 
 Thee, my heart, thou patient one; 
 
 Bear it without sighs, and pardon 
 What the pretty fool has done. 
 
 19. 
 
 Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Herz auch bricht 
 
 I will not mourn altho' my heart be torn, 
 Oh love forever lost! I will not mourn. 
 Altho' arrayed in light and diamonds bright, 
 No single ray falls in thy heart's deep night. 
 
 I know this well. ... I saw thee in a dream 
 And saw the night within thy heart supreme; 
 And saw the snake that gnawed upon thy 
 
 heart . . . 
 I saw how wretched, oh my love, thou art. 
 
54 Book of Songs 
 
 20. 
 Ja, du bist elend, und ich grolle nicht 
 
 Yes, thou art wretched, and I do not mourn; 
 
 Wretched, my love, it seems we both must be ! 
 Until in death the weary heart is torn, 
 
 Wretched, my love, it seems we both must be ! 
 
 I see the scorn that on thy lips doth ride, 
 I see the courage in thy flashing eye; 
 
 I see thy bosom heave with quenchless pride — 
 Yet thou are wretched, wretched even as I. 
 
 Thy lips contract with unseen wounds and pain, 
 And secret tears bedim the eyes I see; 
 
 Thy haughty bosom bears the hidden bane — 
 Wretched, my love, it seems we both must be. 
 
 21. 
 Das ist ein Floten und Geigen 
 
 Oh what a piping and shrilling; 
 
 The trumpets blaze and blare, 
 To wedding-music thrilling 
 
 My love is dancing there. 
 
 And with what a droning and groaning 
 The drums and reeds are rent; 
 
 The while, with sobbing and moaning, 
 The cherubim lament. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 55 
 
 22. 
 
 So hast du ganz und gar vergessen 
 
 So now thou hast forgotten wholly 
 How once thy heart was mine, mine solely ; 
 Thy heart had so sweet and so false a glow, 
 Nought could be sweeter or falser, I know. 
 
 So the love and the pain is forgotten wholly 
 That tortured my heart and made it lowly; 
 But whether the pain was as great as my love, 
 I know not. I know they were both great enough. 
 
 23- 
 
 Und wiisstens die Blumen, die kleinen 
 
 And were it made known to the flowers 
 How wounded my heart must be, 
 
 Their tears would fall in showers 
 To heal my agony. 
 
 If nightingale and linnet 
 
 Knew of my sadness and pain, 
 Their singing would have in it 
 
 A far more joyful strain. 
 
 If sorrow's tearful traces 
 
 The golden stars could see, 
 They would come down from their places 
 
 And try to comfort me. 
 
56 Book of Songs 
 
 But they cannot comprehend it — 
 
 One, only, knows my pain; 
 She took my heart to rend it 
 
 Again and yet again. 
 
 24. 
 Warum sind denn die Rosen so Mass 
 
 Oh why are all the roses so pale, 
 
 My love, come tell me why ? 
 Oh why, with grasses once so hale, 
 
 Do violets droop and die? 
 
 Oh why, to the sound of so doleful a lute, 
 
 Do linnets lift their wings ? 
 Oh why does there spring from each fragrant root 
 
 The odor of dead things ? 
 
 Oh why does the sun send so dreary a ray 
 Over fields where he shone so brave? 
 
 Oh why is all of the earth as gray 
 And desolate as a grave ? 
 
 And I, myself, am so troubled and weak; 
 
 My love, why should this be? 
 Answer my own ; my beloved, speak — 
 
 Why hast thou parted from me? 
 
 25- 
 Sie haben dir viel erz'dhlet 
 
 -They have told you many stories 
 
 And made a great to-do; 
 But why my spirit worries 
 
 Has not been told to you. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 57 
 
 They made a stir and pother, 
 Complaining and shaking the head, 
 
 " A devil ! " they said to each other; 
 And you believed all they said. 
 
 And yet the very worst thing 
 They never even have guessed; 
 
 For the worst and most accurst thing, 
 I carry hid in my breast. 
 
 26. 
 Die Linde bliihte, die Nachtigall sang 
 
 The linden bloomed and the nightingale sang, 
 The great sun laughed with a friendly light; 
 
 You kissed me, my love, and the while my heart sprang, 
 To your palpitant bosom you folded me tight. 
 
 The raven screamed harshly, the withered leaves fell, 
 The sun's cold greeting was sharpened with spite; 
 
 We beckoned each other a frosty farewell, 
 And politely you curtsied a curtsey polite. 
 
58 Book of Songs 
 
 27. 
 
 Wir haben viel fur einander gefiihlt 
 
 How deep we were wrapped in each other's life, 
 How well we behaved (and how bitter the moral) ; 
 How often we played at man and wife, 
 With never a blow or the sign of a quarrel. 
 We sported together in joy and in jest 
 And tenderly kissed and so sweetly caressed; 
 And finally playing like children that go 
 At hide and seek in the woodland together, 
 We managed to stray and to hide ourselves so 
 That each of us now are lost to the other. 
 
 28. 
 Ich glaub' nicht an den Himmel 
 
 I have no faith in Heaven 
 Of which the preachers write; 
 
 Your eyes I do believe in, — 
 They are my Heaven's light. 
 
 I have no faith in Godhead 
 Of which the preachers read; 
 
 Your heart I do believe in, — < 
 No other God I need. 
 
 I have no faith in Satan, 
 In Hell and Hell's fierce smart; 
 
 Your eyes I do believe in, — 
 And in your wicked heart. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 59 
 
 29. 
 Du bleibest mir treu am langsten 
 
 You were steadfast and true the longest; 
 Your care you always gave me, 
 Your thought would cheer and save me 
 
 .When fear and need were strongest. 
 
 A gift of gold would not grieve you, 
 And food you ne'er denied me; 
 With linen you supplied me 
 
 Whene'er I had to leave you. 
 
 And for this great amount, He, 
 The Lord, I pray will be tender 
 To you and reward the splendor 
 
 Of your everlasting bounty. 
 
 30. 
 Die Erde war so lange geizig 
 
 The earth kept hoarding up its treasure; 
 
 May spent it tts a mighty babel 
 Of all that laughed and voiced its pleasure — 
 
 But I, I find I am not able. 
 
 The bells' and flowers' speech reprove me, 
 The birds converse as in the fable; 
 
 But all these wonders do not move me, 
 For life is sad, and joy unstable. 
 
 Man bores me, even as the merest 
 Gossip of friends about the table — 
 
 Because she is no longer " dearest," 
 
 But " Madam "... Hence my soul wears 
 sable. 
 
60 Book of Songs 
 
 Und als ich so lange, so lange ges'dumt 
 And thus, as I wasted so many a day 
 In wandering and dreaming the hours away, 
 My love found the waiting too long a recess, 
 So she started to sew on her wedding-dress; 
 And she caught in her arms (oh deluded and 
 
 duped) 
 As husband, the stupidest one of the stupid. 
 
 My loved one is so mild and fair 
 Her likeness haunts me everywhere; 
 The rose-cheeks and the violet-eyes 
 Year in, year out, their ghosts arise. 
 And that I should lose a love so dear, 
 Was the stupidest act of my stupid career. 
 
 32. 
 Die blauen Veilchen der Augelein 
 The violets blue which are her eyes, 
 The crimson rose which her cheek outvies, 
 The lilies white which her hands disguise, 
 These blossom and glow; they never fade — 
 'Tis but the heart that has decayed. 
 
 33- 
 Die Welt ist so schon und der Himmel so blau 
 
 The world is so fair and the heavens so blue 
 And the breezes so mild that come whispering through, 
 And the flowers arise on the roadside anew, 
 And glisten and gleam in the morning dew, 
 And mankind is happy, whatever the view — 
 And yet I would lie in the grave uncherished 
 With naught but the ghost of a Love that has 
 perished. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 61 
 
 34- 
 Mein susses Lieb, wenv du im Grab 
 
 Love, when you sink where darkness lies 
 
 Before you and behind you, 
 I shall go down with all that dies 
 
 And seek you out — and find you. 
 
 I'll clasp you with kisses, burning and wild, 
 So pale, so unmoved and so cold there; 
 
 And trefiibling and weeping with ecstasy mild 
 I will grow like a corpse and mold there . . . 
 
 The dead stand up as Midnight calls, 
 
 They dance thro' airy spaces; 
 We two remain, wrapped in our palls. 
 
 I lie in your embraces. 
 
 The dead stand up ; the Judgment Day 
 
 Calls them to pain or pleasure. 
 But we will dream the hours away 
 
 Together at our leisure. 
 
 35- 
 
 Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam 
 
 A pine tree stands so lonely 
 
 In the North where the high winds blow, 
 He sleeps; and the whitest blanket 
 
 Wraps him in ice and snow. 
 
 He dreams — dreams of a palm-tree 
 
 That far in an Orient land, 
 Languishes, lonely and drooping, 
 
 Upon the burning sand. 
 
62 Book of Songs 
 
 36. 
 Schone, helle, goldne Sterne 
 
 Stars, with fair and golden ray, 
 Greet my loved one far away; 
 Say that I still wear the rue, 
 Sick at heart and pale — and true. 
 
 37- 
 A ch, wenn ich nur der Schemel war 
 
 {The Head Speaks:) 
 Oh were I but the stool that she 
 
 Uses to rest her feet from pain ; 
 Yea, tho' she stamped and trod on me, 
 
 I would not murmur or complain. 
 
 {The Heart Speaks:) 
 Oh were I but the cushion too 
 
 That holds the needle she employs ; 
 Yea, tho' she pierced me through and 
 through, 
 Each stab would wake the wildest joys. 
 
 {The Song Speaks:) 
 Oh were I but the least — the mere 
 
 Paper with which she curls her hair ! 
 Then would I whisper in her ear 
 
 What stirs in me, and all I dare. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 63 
 
 38. 
 
 Beit die Liebste war entfernt 
 
 Since my love and I did part 
 Laughter died within my heart. 
 Many jesters quip and quaff; 
 But I cannot hope to laugh. 
 
 Since my love was lost to me 
 Weeping also ceased to be. 
 Broken, tortured, robbed of sleep — 
 But I cannot even weep. 
 
 39- 
 Aus meinen grossen Schmerzen 
 
 From grief too great to banish 
 
 Come songs, my lyric minions; 
 
 They lift their airy pinions 
 And toward her bosom vanish. 
 
 I let them rise and depart there — 
 
 But soon they flew homeward complaining; 
 Complaining, but never explaining 
 
 What they had seen in her heart there. 
 
 40. 
 Ich kann es nicht vergessen 
 
 It will not die, but solely 
 
 This thought comes to condole, 
 
 How once I had you wholly; 
 Your body and your soul. 
 
64 Book of Songs 
 
 Your body still I crave for, 
 Your body young and fair; 
 
 Your soul you may dig a grave for, 
 I've soul enough, I swear. 
 
 I'll cut my own spirit in two, dear, 
 And breathe in you half of the whole 
 
 And clasp you — thus forming anew, dear, 
 One perfect body and soul. 
 
 41. 
 Philister in Sonntagsrocklein 
 
 Smug burghers and tradesmen are tripping 
 Through woods in the smartest style; 
 
 Like goats they are hopping and skipping 
 Admiring ' fair Nature ' the while. 
 
 In eyes that are bleary and blinking 
 
 A ray of Romance springs; 
 And great, long ears are drinking 
 
 The song the sparrow sings. 
 
 But I am beclouding and shrouding 
 My windows with curtains of gray; 
 
 For the ghosts of my fancies are crowding 
 To pay me a visit to-day. 
 
 The old love comes in, creeping 
 From Death's immense domain; 
 
 She sits by my side, and, weeping, 
 She melts my heart again. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 65 
 
 42. 
 Manch Bild vergessener Zeiten 
 
 From graves of times forgotten 
 
 Old visions come to me 
 Revealing what, when near you, 
 
 My life once used to be. 
 
 By day I wandered dreaming 
 Through streets and alleys until 
 
 The people looked at me wondering; 
 I was so moody and still. 
 
 By night 'twas somewhat better — 
 The streets were an empty rout; 
 
 And I and my shadow together 
 Went staggering blindly about. 
 
 With ever-echoing footsteps 
 I crossed the bridge by chance; 
 
 The moon broke through the darkness 
 And shot me an earnest glance. 
 
 I stood there, before your dwelling, 
 
 And gazed into the night ; 
 And gazed up at your window — 
 
 My heart torn at the sight . . . 
 
 I know that, oft, from the window, 
 Those lonely streets you scanned, 
 
 And saw me in the moonbeams, 
 Like some white pillar stand. 
 
66 Book of Songs 
 
 43- 
 'Ein Jingling liebt ein Madchen 
 
 A young man loves a maiden 
 
 Whose heart for another has yearned; 
 
 This other loves another 
 By whom his love is returned. 
 
 The maiden weds in anger 
 The first good man she spies 
 
 Who runs into her pathway; 
 The youth grows bitter and wise. 
 
 It is an old, old story 
 
 But one that's always new; 
 And every time it happens 
 
 It breaks a heart in two. 
 
 44 
 Freundschaft, Liebe, Stein der Weisen 
 
 Friendship, Love, the Philosopher's stone, 
 These three things are ranked alone ; 
 These I sought from sun to sun, 
 But, alas, I found not one! 
 
 45- 
 Hor ich das Liedchen klingen 
 
 I hear an echo singing 
 
 The song She sang for me; 
 
 And a fresh grief is wringing 
 My heart's old agony. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 67 
 
 A wild unrest is sweeping 
 
 Me where the high woods grow ; 
 
 There I shall lose, through weeping, 
 My overburdening woe. 
 
 46. 
 Es schauen die Blumen alle 
 
 Now all of the flowers are gazing 
 At the glowing and radiant sun, 
 
 And all of the brooks are seeking 
 The heart of the sea as they run. 
 
 And all of the songs are flying 
 To the most desired and dear — 
 
 Take with you my tears and my sorrows, 
 Ye songs that are saddened and drear. 
 
 47- 
 'Mir traumte von einem Konigskind 
 
 I dreamed of the daughter of a king ; 
 
 With teary, weary faces 
 We sat beneath a linden's wing 
 
 Wrapt in each other's embraces. 
 
 " I do not want thy father's throne, 
 His scepter with gold o'erladen, 
 
 I do not want his brilliant crown, 
 I want but thee, dear maiden," 
 
68 Book of Songs 
 
 "That cannot be," she said to me, 
 " For in the grave I am lying, 
 
 And only at night I come to thee, 
 Because my love is undying." 
 
 48. 
 'Mein Liebchen, wir sassen beisammen 
 
 My dearest, we nestled devoted, 
 Alone in a fairy-like bark. 
 
 The night was still ; and we floated 
 Out on the watery dark. 
 
 'A Spirit-Isle we discovered 
 
 In the moonlight's vague expanse; 
 
 Where airy music hovered 
 And wove with a misty dance. 
 
 The sounds were sweet, and gladdened 
 The night with their magicry. 
 
 But we — we passed it, saddened 
 And worn on a widening sea. 
 
 49- 
 Aus alten Marchen winkt es 
 
 From ancient fairy-stories 
 Beckons an airy hand; 
 
 A voice, with hints of glories, 
 Sings of a magic land, 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 69 
 
 Where flowers have fairer blossoms 
 
 In a golden evening's grace, 
 And bare their fragrant bosoms, 
 
 Lifting a bridelike face. 
 
 Where all the trees are voicing 
 
 Their songs, as in a choir; 
 Where rivers dance, rejoicing, 
 
 And every wind's a lyre. 
 
 Where wilder passions quicken, 
 Where wilder beauty throngs, 
 
 Till you are wonder-stricken 
 With wonder-striking songs ! 
 
 Ah, to be taken yonder 
 
 To let my heart go free; 
 There in a land of wonder 
 
 How blessed it would be . . . 
 
 Ah, Land of Pleasant Places, 
 Land of a dreamer's dream — 
 
 Alas, like foam it passes, 
 Swept by a hurrying stream. 
 
 5o. 
 Ich hab' dich geliebet und Hebe dich noch! 
 
 I loved thee once — and I love thee now. 
 
 Though the stars, in a golden shower, 
 Should fall . . . above the chaos and glow 
 
 The flame of my love would tower! 
 
70 Book of Songs 
 
 Si- 
 'Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen 
 
 On a radiant summer morning 
 
 Into the garden I come; 
 The flowers rustle and whisper 
 
 But I — I wander, dumb. 
 
 The flowers whisper and murmur, 
 Pleading as only they can : 
 
 " Oh be not wroth with our sister, 
 Thou bitter and sorrowful man." 
 
 52- 
 Es leuchtet meine Liebe 
 
 My love and its dark magic 
 Troubles me with its might, 
 
 Like a story, tender and tragic, 
 Told on a summer night : 
 
 " In an enchanted bower 
 
 Two lovers walk, half -awake; 
 
 The moon, like a great white flower, 
 Lies on the breast of a lake. 
 
 " A picture : the maid almost pliant, 
 And on his knees, the knight. 
 
 When lo, from the shadows a giant 
 Springs, — and the maid takes flight. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 71 
 
 " The knight sinks bleeding and dying, 
 The giant tramps back to his hold "... 
 
 When in the grave I am lying 
 The rest of the tale will be told. 
 
 S3- 
 Sie haben mich gequalet 
 
 Many have made me wretched, 
 
 Made mine an evil fate ; 
 Some of them with their loving, 
 
 Some of them with their hate. 
 
 My cup has been filled with poisons, 
 They poisoned the bread I ate; 
 
 Some of them with their loving, 
 Some of them with their hate. 
 
 Yet she, whose poison made me 
 
 Wretched all men above, 
 Gave me no word of hatred, — 
 
 And not a spark of love. 
 
 54- 
 Es liegt der heisse Sommer 
 
 The golden flame of Summer 
 Burns in your glowing cheek; 
 
 But in your heart lies Winter, 
 Barren and cold and bleak. 
 
72 Book of Songs 
 
 Soon it will change, my darling, 
 Far sooner than you seek ; 
 
 Your heart will harbor Summer, 
 While Winter lines your cheek. 
 
 55- 
 Wenn zwei von einander scheiden 
 
 When two who love are parted, 
 They talk, as friend to friend, 
 
 Clasp hands and weep a little, 
 And sigh without an end. 
 
 We did not weep, my darling, 
 Nor sigh " Why must this be . 
 
 The tears, the sighs, the anguish 
 Came later — and to me. 
 
 56. 
 Sie sassen und tranken am Theetisch 
 
 'Twas tea-time — the mildly esthetic 
 Ensemble took ' Love ' as their theme ; 
 
 The mood of the guests was ' poetic ' ; 
 They gushed like a lyrical stream. 
 
 " True love must be always platonic," 
 A hardened old councilor cried. 
 
 With a laugh that was almost ironic 
 His wife looked upward and sighed. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 73 
 
 A canon spoke, " We must resist 'em, 
 These pleasures that rouse and harass, 
 
 Or else they will ruin the system." 
 
 And a pretty yourtg thing lisped, " Alas." 
 
 The countess, drooping and yearning, 
 
 Said, " Love must sweep on like the sea ! " 
 
 As, elegantly turning, 
 
 She handed the baron his tea. 
 
 Still, it was not quite complete, dear — ■ 
 
 Your place stood empty above. 
 And oh, it would have been sweet, dear, 
 
 To hear you prattle of love. 
 
 57- 
 Vergiftet sind meine Lieder 
 
 My songs, they say, are poisoned. 
 
 How else, love, could it be? 
 Thou hast, with deadly magic, 
 
 Poured poison into me. 
 
 My songs, they say, are poisoned. 
 
 How else, then, could it be? 
 I carry a thousand serpents 
 
 And, love, among them — thee ! 
 
 58. 
 Mir traumte wieder der alte Traum 
 
 Again the old dream came to me : 
 'Twas May; the world was vernal; 
 
 We sat beneath the linden tree 
 And pledged a faith eternal. 
 
74 Book of Songs 
 
 Great love and a deathless oath we swore. 
 
 And that I might ne'er forget it, 
 With a passionate kiss and a thousand more 
 
 You took my hand — and bit it. 
 
 Oh sweetheart with the lips that cling, 
 
 With eyes so clear and merry, 
 The oath was quite the proper thing — 
 
 The bite, unnecessary ! 
 
 59- 
 Ich steh' auf des Berges Spitze 
 
 I stand on the mountain's summit 
 
 Emotional and absurd. 
 Sighing these maudlin verses : 
 
 " Would that I were a bird ! " 
 
 Oh if I were a swallow 
 
 I'd fly to you for rest, 
 And, underneath your window, 
 
 I'd build my little nest. 
 
 And if I were, oh dearest, 
 
 A splendid nightingale, 
 All night you'd hear me singing 
 
 From many a verdant vale. 
 
 And if I were a jay-bird 
 My hopes to you I'd raise ; 
 
 For you are kind to jay-birds 
 And to the woes of jays ! 1 
 
 1 In this verse Heine puns satirically on the word Gimpel, 
 which can mean either ' a bullfinch ' or ' a fool.' Having no 
 exact equivalent in English ornithology, I have been compelled 
 to substitute another sort of bird- 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 75 
 
 60. 
 'Mein Wagen rollet langsam 
 
 My carriage rolls on slowly ; 
 
 Woods are a cheerful green ; 
 Valleys exult with flowers — 
 
 The world's a magic scene ! 
 
 I sit and think of my loved one, 
 And dream that she might be here ; 
 
 And lo, at my side three phantoms 
 Curtsey and grin and leer. 
 
 They bow and they bob and they caper, 
 Mocking, yet bashful and kind . . . 
 
 And then, like an eddy of vapor, 
 They titter and pass with the wind. 
 
 61. 
 
 Ich hab' im Traum geweinet 
 
 I wept as I lay dreaming, 
 
 I dreamed that you had died. 
 And, when I woke, the tear-drops 
 
 Clung to my cheeks undried. 
 
 I wept as I lay dreaming, 
 
 I dreamed you were false to me. 
 
 I woke, and for many hours 
 Lay weeping bitterly. 
 
76 Book of Songs 
 
 I wept as I lay dreaming, 
 I dreamed that your love was true ! 
 
 I woke, to an endless weeping, 
 And the endless thought of you. 
 
 62. 
 
 'Allnachtlich im Traume seh' ich dich 
 
 Beloved, in dreams we often meet, 
 
 And lo, your voice is kindly. 
 I fling myself at your gracious feet, 
 
 And weep there, long and blindly. 
 
 ,You shake your fair head, sunbeam-swept, 
 
 And oh, that look appealing! 
 As out of eyes that never wept 
 
 The blessed tears come stealing. 
 
 You whisper a word for me alone 
 
 And give me a wreath, dream-begotten . 
 
 I wake — and the cypress-wreath is gone, 
 And the word is quite forgotten ! 
 
 63. 
 'Das ist ein Brausen und Heulen 
 
 A howling storm is brewing, 
 The wind and rain are wild ; 
 
 And what can my love be doing, 
 That pale and frightened child ? 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 77 
 
 There at the window dreaming, 
 
 I see her, worn and white; 
 With eyes no longer beaming, 
 
 She stares into the night. 
 
 64. 
 Der Herbstwind ruttelt die Baume 
 
 Wild Autumn shakes the branches, 
 
 The night is damp and cold ; 
 I ride through a lonely forest, 
 
 Wrapped in my cloak's gray fold. 
 
 And, as I ride, my fancies 
 
 Fly faster along the road ; 
 They bear me, light and eager, 
 
 To her beloved abode. 
 
 The dogs awake; the torches 
 Flare, and the whole house stirs; 
 
 I storm the spiral staircase 
 And mount, with a clatter of spurs. 
 
 Lo, in her own soft chamber, 
 Warm with its fragrant charms, 
 
 My love awaits me, smiling — 
 I fly to her open arms . . . 
 
 I hear the oak-tree speaking; 
 
 The wind, in the branches, screams : 
 " What wouldst thou, oh wild horseman- 
 
 Thou, and thy wilder dreams ! " 
 
.78 Book of Songs 
 
 65- 
 Es fdllt ein Stern herunter 
 
 A star, a star is falling 
 
 Out of the glittering sky ! 
 The star of Love ! I watch it 
 
 Sink in the depths and die. 
 
 The leaves and buds are falling 
 From many an apple-tree ; 
 
 I watch the mirthful breezes 
 Embrace them wantonly. 
 
 A swan, a swan is singing ; 
 
 I watch it floating by ; 
 And, drooping low and lower, 
 
 The song and singer die. 
 
 It is so dark and silent! 
 
 The star that burned so long 
 Is dust; the leaves are ashes; 
 
 Hushed is the swan's last song. 
 
 66. 
 Der Traumgott bracht' mich in ein Riesenschloss 
 
 The Dream-God led me to a castle grim 
 
 Full of strange lights, strange scents and stranger 
 glamor ; 
 
 And through great labyrinths there seemed to swim 
 Wild multitudes whom nothing could enamor. 
 
 Onward they swept, through halls and portals dim, 
 Wringing pale hands with an incessant clamor. 
 
 Maidens and knights I saw among the throng 
 
 And, with the torrent, I was borne along. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 79 
 
 When suddenly I was alone — and lo, 
 
 I could not find a single face whatever. ^ 
 
 Through frowning aisles and winding rooms I go; 1 
 Fiercely impelled by one intense endeavor. 
 
 But oh, my feet are lead, my footsteps slow . . . 
 To find the gate, and leave this place forever ! 
 
 At last, I gain the portals with a prayer, 
 
 Fling wide the door and leap . . . Oh God, who's 
 there! 
 
 My love ! Beside that door I saw her stand, 
 Pain on her lips and Sorrow's crown above her. 
 
 Backward she turned me with a waving hand, 
 Threatening or warning, I could not discover . . 
 
 Yet, from her eyes, sprang, like a sweet command, 
 A fire that made me once again her lover. 
 
 Tender and strong, her very glances spoke 
 
 The flaming speech of Love — and I awoke. 
 
 67. 
 Die Mitternacht war halt und stumm 
 
 'Twas midnight, still and very cold; 
 Through the dark woods I sang and strolled. 
 I shook the trees with my doleful ditty — 
 They only nodded their heads, in pity. 
 
80 Book of Songs 
 
 68. 
 Am Kreuzweg wird begraben 
 
 They buried him at the cross-roads, 
 Whose own hand wrought his doom ; 
 
 And over him grow blue flowers 
 Called the " Poor-Sinner's Bloom." 
 
 I stand at the cross-roads sighing, 
 Wrapped in a cloak of gloom, 
 
 And watch the moonlight trembling 
 On the Poor-Sinner's Bloom. 
 
 69. 
 Wo ich bin, mich rings umdunhelt 
 
 Now the night grows deeper, stronger; 
 
 Darkness dense about me lies, 
 Since the stars died ; since no longer, 
 
 Love, I can behold your eyes. 
 
 Dimmed, forgotten is the dawning 
 Of that great and golden light; 
 
 At my feet the pit is yawning. 
 Take me — stark, eternal Night! 
 
 70. 
 Nacht lag auf meinen Augen 
 
 Night lay upon my eyelids, 
 Upon my mouth lay lead ; 
 
 My heart and brain were barren ; 
 I lay with all the 'dead. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 81 
 
 How long I lay there, sleeping 
 I know not ; but I gave . 
 
 A start and turned, for knocking 
 Sounded above my grave. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, oh Heinrich, 
 
 The Dawn eternal breaks, 
 When all the dead are risen 
 
 And deathless Joy awakes." 
 
 I cannot rise, my dearest ; 
 
 Your face I cannot find — 
 I've wept until my sorrows 
 
 And tears have made me blind. 
 
 " From your dear eyes, oh Heinrich, 
 
 I'll kiss the night away; 
 And you shall see the angels, 
 
 And Heaven's bright array." 
 
 I cannot rise, my dearest, 
 
 Bleeding I lie, unstirred ; 
 Since, to the heart, you stabbed me 
 
 With one sharp, bitter word. 
 
 " Softly I'll lay, oh Heinrich, 
 
 My hand upon your heart, 
 And it will bleed no longer, 
 
 And I will soothe the smart." 
 
 I cannot rise, my dearest, 
 
 My head is bleeding too ; 
 Tis there I fired the pistol 
 
 The day that I lost you! 
 
82 Book of Songs 
 
 " With my own hair, oh Heinrich, 
 I'll stop the gaping wound, 
 
 Press back the streaming torrent 
 And make you strong and sound." 
 
 So soft her call, so tender, 
 She could not be denied — 
 
 I strove to rend my coffin 
 And struggle to her side . . . 
 
 Then all my wqunds burst open ; 
 
 I felt the torrent break 
 From head and burning bosom . . . 
 
 And lo, I was awake! 
 
 7i- 
 
 Die alien bosen Lieder 
 
 The songs, so old and bitter, 
 The dreams so wild and drear, 
 
 Let's bury them together — 
 What ho! A coffin here! 
 
 I have so much to bury 
 
 It never will be done, 
 Unless the coffin's larger 
 
 Than Heidelberg's great Tun. 
 
 And bring a bier to match it 
 Of stoutest oaks and pines ; 
 
 It must be even longer 
 Than the long bridge at Mainz. 
 
Lyrical Intermezzo 83 
 
 And also bring twelve giants 
 Of mightier brawn and bone 
 
 Than Christopher, the sainted, 
 Whose shrine is in Cologne. 
 
 And in the great sea sink it 
 
 Beneath the proudest wave; 
 For such a mighty coffin 
 
 Should have a mighty grave . . . 
 
 You know what makes my coffin 
 
 So great, so hard to bear ? 
 It holds my love within it, 
 
 And my too heavy care. 
 
THE HOME-COMING 
 (1823-1824) 
 
I. 
 In mein gar zu dunkles Leben 
 
 In my life's enshrouded darkness 
 Once a vision shed its light; 
 
 Now, that phantom radiance vanished, 
 I am wrapped again in night. 
 
 Children, when oppressed by darkness, 
 When their happy hearts are cowed, 
 
 To allay their fears and trembling 
 Sing a song — and sing too loud. 
 
 I, a child half-crazed, am singing, 
 Singing in the darkness here . . . 
 
 If my song is loud and raucous, 
 It, at least, has soothed my fear. 
 
 2. 
 Ich weiss nicht, was soil es bedeuten 
 
 I do not know why this confronts me, 
 This sadness, this echo of pain ; 
 
 A curious legend still haunts me, 
 Still haunts and obsesses my brain : 
 
 The air is cool ; it is twilight. 
 
 Peacefully flows the Rhine. 
 The summits gleam with the high light 
 
 Of sunset's curious shine. 
 
 "7 
 
88 Book of Songs 
 
 And on one peak, half-dreaming 
 
 She sits, enthroned and fair; 
 Like a goddess, dazzling and gleaming, 
 
 She combs her golden hair. 
 
 With a gold comb she is combing 
 Her hair as she sings a song — 
 
 A song that, heard through the gloaming, 
 Is magically sweet and strong. 
 
 The boatman has heard; it has bound him 
 
 In the throes of a strange, wild love. 
 He is blind to the reefs that surround him ; 
 He is rapt with the vision above. 
 
 And lo, the wild waters are springing — 
 The boat and the boatman are gone . . . 
 
 And this, with her poignant singing, 
 The Loreley has done. 
 
 3- 
 Mein Herz, mein Herz ist traurig 
 
 My heart is full of sorrow 
 Though May is full of cheer; 
 
 I stand beside the linden, 
 High on the bastion here. 
 
 I watch the blue moat idly ; 
 
 Gently it flows along. 
 A boy in a drifting rowboat 
 
 Angles and whistles a song. v 
 
The Home-Coming 89 
 
 Beyond, like a quaint, toy village, 
 
 Tiny and many-hued, 
 Are houses, gardens and people, 
 
 Oxen and meadow and wood. 
 
 To bleach their piles of linen 
 
 The laughing maidens come ; 
 The millwheel spatters diamonds; 
 
 I hear its distant hum. 
 
 Upon the old, gray tower 
 
 A sentry-box stands low ; 
 And there a chap in scarlet 
 
 Is pacing to and fro. 
 
 He practises with his rifle 
 
 That catches the sunset's red ; 
 He shoulders it and presents it-^- 
 
 Would that he shot me dead ! 
 
 4- 
 Im Walde wandl' ich und weine 
 
 I pace the greenwood, bitter 
 
 With tears, and as I go 
 A thrush begins to twitter, 
 
 " Why art thou sorrowing so ? " 
 
 Ask of thy sisters, the swallows ; 
 
 They know the answer well. 
 They nest in the eaves and hollows 
 
 Where the beloved doth dwell. 
 
90 Book of Songs 
 
 5- 
 . Die Nackt ist feucht und sturmisch 
 
 The night is wet and stormy, 
 No stars are in the sky; 
 
 The boughs in the forest whisper. 
 I wander slowly by. 
 
 Far off a candle glimmers 
 
 From the forester's lonely room ; 
 
 But there the light shall not lure me, 
 It is too wrapped in gloom. 
 
 The sightless grandmother's sitting 
 In the high-backed, leather chair ; 
 
 She listens, stiff as a statue, 
 Uncanny and silent there. 
 
 Cursing and pacing in anger, 
 The forester's red-headed son 
 
 Laughs in a burst of fury 
 And throws aside his gun. 
 
 The girl weeps at her spinning, 
 
 And moistens the flax with her tears. 
 
 While at her feet, the dachshund 
 Trembles with unknown fears. 
 
The Home-Coming 91 
 
 6. 
 
 'A Is ich auf der Reise zufallig 
 
 By chance I met on my journey 
 
 My dear one's family ; 
 Sister and mother and father ; 
 
 Smiling, they greeted me. 
 
 How was my health — and spirits? 
 
 They? . . . Oh, the same old tale. 
 I hadn't changed much, they told me, 
 
 Only a trifle pale. 
 
 I asked about aunts and cousins 
 With interest (save the mark!) 
 
 And other such pleasing people, 
 And the dog, with his gentle bark. 
 
 How was my married sweetheart 
 
 Whom they had left behind? 
 And smilingly they told me 
 
 That she would soon be confined. 
 
 I coughed congratulations, 
 
 And, stammering wretchedly, 
 I asked them all to greet her 
 
 A thousand times for me. 
 
 Then spoke the little sister : 
 
 " That puppy pet of mine 
 Grew up so big and horrid, 
 
 We drowned him in the Rhine." 
 
92 Book of Songs 
 
 The child resembles her sister, 
 Sometimes remarkably so — 
 
 Those eyes and that way of laughing 
 That brought me so much woe. 
 
 7- 
 JVir sassen am Fischerhause 
 
 We sat at the hut of the fisher 
 
 And idly watched the sea, 
 While in the hush of evening 
 
 The mists rose silently. 
 
 The yellow lights in the lighthouse 
 Shone like a burnished bell, 
 
 And in the hazy distance 
 One ship still rose and fell. 
 
 We spoke of storm and shipwreck, 
 
 Of sailors and their life, 
 Pulled between sky and water, 
 
 Fierce joy and lusty strife. 
 
 We gossiped of distant places, 
 Of North and of South we spoke, 
 
 Of wild and curious customs, 
 And wild and curious folk. 
 
 Of how the Ganges sparkles ; 
 
 Of great exotic trees ; 
 Of folk who worship the lotus 
 
 Silently, on their knees. 
 
The Home-Coming 93 
 
 Of Lapland; its slovenly people, 
 Flat-headed, broad-featured and small, 
 
 That do little else but bake fishes 
 And squat by the fire and squall. . . . 
 
 The girls all listened breathless ; 
 
 Then silence, like a spell . . . 
 The ship could be seen no longer — r 
 
 Swiftly the darkness fell. 
 
 8. 
 Du schones Fischermadchen 
 
 Oh lovely fishermaiden, 
 
 Come, bring your boat to land ; 
 And we will sit together 
 
 And whisper, hand in hand. 
 
 Oh rest upon my bosom, 
 And fear no harm from me. 
 
 You give your body daily, 
 Unfearing to the sea. . . . 
 
 My heart is like the ocean 
 With storm and ebb and flow- 
 
 And many a pearly treasure 
 Burns in the depths below. 
 
94 Book of Songs 
 
 9- 
 Der Mond ist aufgegangen 
 
 The yellow moon has risen, 
 
 It slants upon the sea; 
 And in my arms' soft prison 
 
 My love leans close to me. 
 
 Warm with her gentle clinging, 
 I lie on the sands, half awake. 
 
 " Oh what do you hear in the swinging 
 Of the winds, and why do you shake? " 
 
 " That's never the wind that is swinging, 
 That murmur that troubles me; 
 
 It is the mermaidens singing — 
 My sisters drowned in the sea." 
 
 10. 
 f A uf den Wolken ruht der Mond 
 
 The moon is lying on the clouds, 
 A giant orange, strangely beaming; 
 
 Stretched upon the harsh gray sea 
 Long and broadening stripes are gleaming. 
 
 Alone I wander by the shore 
 
 Where the waters break and whiten, 
 
 And I hear a watery voice, 
 And my pulses leap and tighten. 
 
The Home-Coming 95 
 
 Oh, the night is far too long 
 
 And I cannot bear this quiet — 
 Come, ye lovely water-sprites, 
 
 Dance and rouse the magic riot. 
 
 With my head upon your lap, 
 
 Hold me close and never wake me. 
 
 Sing me dead and kiss me dead ; 
 Heart and soul and body — take me ! 
 
 11. 
 
 Eingehullt in graue Wolken 
 
 Wrapped in clouds, as in a mantle, 
 Now the great gods sleep together 
 
 And I hear them, bravely snoring, 
 And we're having awful weather. 
 
 It grows wilder ; winds are howling 
 And the masts are bent like willows. 
 
 Who can curb the lordly tempest, 
 Put a bridle on the billows ! 
 
 I can't stop it, let it come then; 
 
 Storms and terrors without number. 
 I will wrap my mantle round me, 
 
 And, like any god, I'll slumber. 
 
96 Book of Songs 
 
 12. 
 Der Wind zieht seine Hosen an 
 
 The wind pulls up his water-spouts, 
 His white and foaming breeches ; * 
 
 He whips the waves ; he storms and shouts. 
 The whole sea heaves and pitches ! 
 
 From the black skies, a furious might 
 
 Impels the rain's commotion ; 
 It seems as though the ancient Night 
 
 Had come to drown the ocean. 
 
 To the mast a vagrant sea-gull clings 
 Where, hoarsely shrilling and crying, 
 
 As though in despair, she flaps her wings ; 
 An evil prophesying ! 
 
 13- 
 Der Sturm spielt auf zum Tanze 
 
 The storm tunes up for dancing, 
 
 It yells and shrieks away; 
 Huzzah, how the old ship waltzes ! 
 
 The night is wild and gay ! 
 
 A riot of tossing mountains, 
 Thus seems the sea to-night. 
 
 Here, yawns a sinking chasm; 
 There, looms a wall of white. 
 
 'The original of the first two lines : 
 
 Der Wind zieht seine Hosen an, 
 Die weissen Wasserhosen ! 
 
 There is an untranslatable play upon words here; " Hosen " being 
 
 ' breeches ' and "Wasserhosen" 'water-spouts.' 
 
The Home-Coming 97 
 
 The sound of prayers and puking 
 And oaths from the cabin come ; 
 
 I cling to the mast with a vengeance — 
 And wish that I were home! 
 
 14. 
 Wenn ich an deinem House 
 
 I pass your little window 
 The mornings that are fair, 
 
 And I am thrilled, my darling, 
 Whene'er I see you there. 
 
 Your deep brown eyes disturb me, 
 They question and condole, 
 
 " Who art thou and what ails thee, 
 Oh pale and wandering soul ? " 
 
 I am a German poet, 
 In German lands I shine; 
 
 And where great names are mentioned 
 They're sure to speak of mine. 
 
 As for my sickness, darling, 
 It's rather a common sign . . . 
 
 And where great griefs are mentioned 
 They're sure to speak of mine. 
 
 15- 
 Das Meer erglanzte weit hinaus 
 
 The vastness of the ocean shone 
 In the sunset's final gleaming. 
 
 We sat in the fisher's hut alone; 
 We sat there, silent and dreaming. 
 
98 Book of Songs 
 
 The mist crept up, the waters hove, 
 The gulls kept coming and going ; 
 
 And from your eyes that welled with love 
 The quiet tears were flowing. 
 
 I saw them fall upon your hand, 
 And then, as quickly sinking 
 
 Upon my knees, from that white hand 
 I drank the tears, unthinking. 
 
 And from that hour my life has turned ; 
 
 And sorrow leaves me never. 
 That wretched woman's tears have burned 
 
 And poisoned me forever. 
 
 16. 
 'Da droben auf jenem Berge 
 
 High up on yonder mountain 
 
 A castle stands, and three 
 Fair maidens live within it; 
 
 They love me generously. 
 
 Saturday, Yetta kissed me ; 
 
 Sunday, Julia was free; 
 On Monday, Kunigunda 
 
 With love near smothered me. 
 
 But Tuesday, my three fair charmers 
 
 Gave an imposing fete; 
 The neighborhood's lords and ladies 
 
 Came riding in wagons of state. 
 
The Home-Coming 99 
 
 But me they had skipped or forgotten, 
 
 And that was a poor thing to do. 
 Those gossips, the old aunts and cousins, 
 
 They noticed, and laughed at it too. 
 
 17. 
 Die Lilje meiner Liebe 
 
 My sweetheart has a lily 
 
 That dreams by a brook all day, 
 It turns from me, and stilly 
 
 Its beauty seems to say: 
 
 " Go, faithless man, your rapture 
 Has left me cold. . . . Depart ! 
 
 I saw you bend and capture 
 The Rose with your faithless heart." 
 
 18. 
 Am fernen Horizonte 
 
 Wrapped in the distant sunset, 
 Like phantoms in a mist, 
 
 I see the town and its towers, 
 All rose and amethyst. 
 
 A damp sea-breeze is rising; 
 
 The sea grows rough and dark. 
 With slow and sad precision 
 
 The boatman rows my bark. 
 
ioo Book of Songs 
 
 The sun looks up a moment, 
 Piercing the clouds above, 
 
 And shows me, all too clearly, 
 The place I lost my love. 
 
 19. 
 Sei mir gegriisst, du grosse 
 
 Greetings to thee, oh city 
 
 Of power and mystery, 
 That once, within thy bosom, 
 
 Shielded my love for me. 
 
 Tell me, oh gates and towers, 
 Where is my loved one, where ? 
 
 Into your care I gave her; 
 You should have kept her there. 
 
 I do not blame the towers, 
 
 They could not stir where they stood, 
 
 When she, with her trunks and boxes, 
 Stole off as fast as she could. 
 
 The gates, those fools, they let her 
 Pass through them — and were still. 
 
 Well, fools are always willing 
 When foolish women will. 1 
 
 1 The original : 
 
 Die Thore jedoch die lie sen 
 
 Mein Liebchen entwischen gar still; 
 
 Ein Thor ist immer willig, 
 
 Wenn.eine Thorin will. 
 Heine puns here untranslatably on the word ' ' Thor" which is either 
 a " gate" or a "fool"; " Thorin" being the feminine. 
 
The Home-Coming ;ioi 
 
 20. 
 So wandl' ich wieder den alten Weg 
 
 To old paths and familiar streets 
 
 My footsteps have reverted ; 
 And lo, there stands the Beloved's house, 
 
 So empty and deserted. 
 
 How close and narrow the streets have grown ; 
 
 The pavement itself is unstable ! 
 The houses topple and seem to fall . . . 
 
 I'm off as fast as I'm able ! 
 
 21. 
 Ich trat in jene Hallen 
 
 I stood as in a spell 
 
 Where she swore faith undying ; 
 And where her tears once fell 
 
 Serpents were hissing and lying. 
 
 22. 
 Still ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen 
 
 The night is still; the streets are quiet; 
 
 My sweetheart dwelt in this house of yore. 
 Long since she left the city's riot; 
 
 The house still stands as it stood before. 
 
102 Book of Songs 
 
 Here, too, there stands a man who gazes 
 On heaven and wrings his hands in despair. 
 
 Lo, when his face the moonlight glazes — 
 It is myself that is standing there ! 
 
 Oh pale, worn shadow, oh phantom double, 
 Why ape my bitter, love-sick tears, 
 
 That drove me here to an endless trouble, 
 Many a night in the vanished years. 
 
 23- 
 Wie kannst du ruhig schlafen 
 
 How can you sleep so soundly, 
 Knowing I'm living. See, 
 
 When the old rage comes on me, 
 What is a yoke to me! 
 
 There is a song that tells how 
 A lover dead and brave 
 
 Came to his lass at midnight, 
 And brought her to his grave. 
 
 Believe me, child of beauty, 
 Bright as the fiercest star, 
 
 I live — and am ten times stronger 
 Than all the dead men are ! 
 
The Home-Coming 103 
 
 24. 
 Die Jungfrau schlaft in der Kammer 
 
 A maiden lies in her chamber 
 
 Lit by a trembling moon; 
 Outside there rises and echoes 
 
 A waltz's giddy tune. 
 
 " I wonder who breaks my slumber ; 
 
 I'll go to the window and see — " 
 And lo, a skeleton stands there; 
 
 He fiddles and sings with glee : 
 
 " A dance you swore to give me, 
 And you have broken your vow; 
 
 To-night there's a ball in the churchyard; 
 Come out and dance with me now ! " 
 
 The maid, as though moved by magic, 
 Obeys, and she leaves the house; 
 
 The skeleton, fiddling and singing, 
 Goes on with its wild carouse. 
 
 It fiddles and leaps and dances 
 And rattles its bones to the tune; 
 
 Its skull keeps nodding and nodding 
 Crazily under the moon. 
 
104 Book of Songs 
 
 25- 
 Ich stand in dunkeln Traumen 
 
 I stood bewildered, seeing 
 Her picture there — and lo, 
 
 That fair, beloved likeness 
 Began to live and glow. 
 
 About her lips there trembled 
 A laughter, strange and dear ; 
 
 And, through the tears of sorrow, 
 Her gleaming eyes shone clear. 
 
 Wet were my cheeks ; the tear-drops 
 Were falling fast and free . . . 
 
 And oh, I cannot believe it, 
 That you are lost to me ! 
 
 26. 
 
 Ich ungliicksel' ger Atlas! eine Welt 
 
 I, unfortunate Atlas! A whole world, 
 A monstrous world of sorrows I must carry. 
 I bear a weight unbearable ; a burden 
 That breaks the heart within me. 
 
 Oh foolish heart, you have what you desired ! 
 You would be happy, infinitely happy, 
 Or infinitely wretched, foolish heart. 
 And now — now you are wretched ! 
 
The Home-Coming [105 
 
 27. 
 Die Jahre kommen und gehen 
 
 The years keep coming and going, 
 
 Men will arise and depart ; 
 Only one thing is immortal: 
 
 The love that is in my heart. 
 
 Oh once, only once, might I see thee, 
 Ere I break these fetters in shards, 
 
 And kneel to thee dying, and murmur : 
 " Madam, my best regards." 
 
 28. 
 Was will die einsame Thr'dne 
 
 What means this lonely tear-drop, 
 
 Misty with ancient pains? 
 The tragic days have vanished, 
 
 But still this tear remains. 
 
 Once it had shining sisters; 
 
 But, with the old delights 
 And passing griefs, they left me, 
 
 Lost in the windy nights. 
 
 Lost, like the mist, those blue orbs; 
 
 Stars with a smiling dart, 
 That shot the joys and sorrows 
 
 Laughing into my heart. 
 
106 Book of Songs 
 
 Even my love has perished, 
 A breath that I have drawn . 
 
 Oh lone, belated tear-drop, 
 Tis time you too were gone. 
 
 29. 
 Der bleiche, herbstliche Halbmond 
 
 The pale, autumnal half -moon 
 Breaks through the cloudy skies; 
 
 Quietly, by the churchyard 
 The lonely parsonage lies. 
 
 The mother reads in her Bible; 
 
 The son just stares and stares; 
 The elder daughter dozes; 
 
 The younger one declares: 
 
 " Oh Lord, how stupid the days are, 
 
 Endlessly dull and drear ! 
 Only when there's a funeral 
 
 Is there anything doing here." 
 
 " You're wrong," says the mother still 
 reading, 
 
 " They've only buried four ; 
 That is, since they laid your father 
 
 There, by the churchyard door." 
 
 " Well," yawns the elder daughter, 
 " I'll starve no longer with you. 
 
 I'll go to the Count to-morrow; 
 lie's rich, and he loves me too," 
 
The Home-Coming 107 
 
 The son then bursts out laughing, 
 
 " At the ' Star ' there are hunters three; 
 
 They're making gold and gladly 
 They'll teach the secret to me." 
 
 The mother flings her Bible 
 
 At his head, half-crazed with grief, 
 
 " That's what you'll be, God help you, 
 A common gutter thief ! " 
 
 Lo, there's a tap at the window ; 
 
 They turn to a beckoning hand — 
 There, in his moldy cassock, 
 
 They see the dead father stand. 
 
 30. 
 Das ist ein schlechtes Wetter 
 
 Well, this is awful weather; 
 
 Storming with rain and snow ! 
 I sit at the window staring 
 
 Into the darkness below. 
 
 A little glimmering brightness 
 Goes down the uncertain street : 
 
 A lantern, and a mother 
 With tired and stumbling feet. 
 
 I think it's eggs and flour 
 That the old lady has bought 
 
 To bake a cake for her daughter, 
 The lazy good-for-naught. 
 
108 Book of Songs 
 
 Yawning at home on the sofa 
 She lies in front of the blaze — 
 
 The golden hair is falling 
 Around her golden face. 
 
 31- 
 Man glaubt, dass ich mich gr'dme 
 
 They think that I am tortured 
 
 Beneath a bitter yoke ; 
 And I have come to believe it 
 
 As well as other folk. 
 
 Oh little, great-eyed maiden, 
 I've told thee time and again, 
 
 That beyond words I love thee, 
 
 That Love gnaws my heart in twain. 
 
 But in my own room only 
 I've said this thing — for see, 
 
 When I am in thy presence 
 No word escapes from me. 
 
 For there were evil angels 
 
 That sealed my lips somehow; 
 
 And through these evil angels 
 I am so wretched now. 
 
The Home-Coming 109 
 
 32. 
 
 Deine weissen Liljenfinger 
 
 Oh, your slim, white lily-fingers, 
 Only once more might I kiss them ; 
 And, as to my heart I press them, 
 Lose myself in quiet weeping. 
 
 Your clear, violet-eyes pursue me; 
 Dance before me, day and night. 
 And I wonder how to answer, 
 How to solve those sweet, blue riddles. 
 
 33- 
 "Hat sie sick denn nie ge'dussert " 
 
 " Has she never even shown you 
 That your hot avowals moved her ? 
 
 Did her dark eyes tell you nothing, 
 When you swore how much you loved her ? 
 
 "Could you never find an entrance 
 
 To her soul through sighs and glances ? . . . 
 
 And they say you're not a donkey, 
 But a Hero of Romances ! " 
 
no Book of Songs 
 
 34- 
 Sie liebten sich beide, dock keiner 
 
 They loved one another, though neither 
 Would speak to the other thereof; 
 
 They looked at each other like strangers 
 The while they were dying of love. 
 
 They parted; and only in visions 
 They met, and the dream soon fled. 
 
 And at last these two were buried — 
 They scarcely knew they were dead. 
 
 35- 
 Und ah ich euch meine Schmerzen geklagt 
 
 When I told of my sorrows that wounded and tore 
 You answered with yawns and nothing more. 
 
 But now, since I've added a lyrical phrase 
 And put them in verse, you are lavish with praise ! 
 
The Home-Coming in 
 
 36. 
 Ich rief den Teufel und er kam 
 
 I called the devil and he came; 
 And then I saw, with a wondering gaze, 
 He was not hideous, he was not lame, 
 But a genial man with charming ways. 
 A man in the very flush of his prime ; 
 Experienced, suave and in touch with his time. 
 As a diplomat, his talent is great, 
 And he speaks wisely of Church and the State. 
 True, he is pale; but it's little wonder, 
 For Sanskrit and Hegel he's staggering under. 
 His favorite poet is still Fouque; 
 As critic he finds that the work is a bother, 
 So Hecate now, his beloved grandmother, 
 Has taken the task and is given full sway. 
 My legal studies called forth his laudation; 
 He too, in his youth, found them quaint recreation. 
 He said that my friendship could never be 
 Too dear for him ; and bowed to me. 
 And asked had we not met some place — 
 Perhaps the ambassador's ? . . . and with that sen- 
 tence 
 I looked more closely at his face, 
 And recognized an old acquaintance. 
 
 37- 
 Mensch, verspotte nicht den Teufel 
 
 Mortal, mock not at the devil, 
 Life is short and soon will fail, 
 
 And the ' fire everlasting ' 
 Is no idle fairy-tale. 
 
H2 Book of Songs 
 
 Mortal, pay your debts, delay not; 
 
 Years are long, and while they last 
 You will borrow in the future 
 
 Just as oft as in the past. 
 
 38. 
 Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder 
 
 My child, we once were children, 
 Two children, blithe and gay, 
 
 We used to crawl up to the hen-house 
 And hide ourselves under the hay. 
 
 We cackled and crowed whenever 
 People passed down the road — 
 
 " Kikerikee! " they thought it 
 Was really the cocks that crowed. 
 
 The boxes in our courtyard 
 
 We draped with what we could find, 
 
 And lived in them together, 
 A home of the cosiest kind. 
 
 Our neighbor's cat came often 
 
 To visit us in our bower ; 
 We met her with bows and curtsies 
 
 And compliments by the hour. 
 
 Politely we asked how her health was, 
 In the course of a friendly chat. 
 
 (We've said the same things since then 
 To many a grave, old cat.) 
 
The Home-Coming 113 
 
 And often like old folk we gossiped, 
 
 Aping their serious ways; 
 Complaining how things were better 
 
 In ' the dead and dear old days.' 
 
 How Love and Faith and Honor 
 
 Were lost without regret; 
 How coffee was so expensive, 
 
 And money so hard to get ! . . . 
 
 Gone are the plays of childhood, 
 And all things seem a wraith — 
 
 Time and the world and money, 
 And Love and Honor and Faith. 
 
 39- 
 Das Herz ist mir bedruckt, und sehnlich 
 
 My heart is crushed with grief, for sadly 
 I think of old times, clean of strife, 
 
 When all the world went far from badly, 
 And people lived a normal life. 
 
 But now the world seems madly driven; 
 
 Scrambling to pull and push ahead ! 
 Dead is the good Lord up in Heaven, 
 
 And down below the devil's dead. 
 
 All things, with this eternal shoving, 
 Become a gray and sodden brawl ; 
 
 And if it were not for a little loving 
 There'd be no rest for us at all. 
 
ii4 Book of Songs 
 
 40. 
 Wie der Mond sich leuchtend drdnget 
 
 As the moon through heavy cloud-drifts 
 Bursts with his effulgent rays, 
 
 So a shining memory rises 
 From the old and darkened days. 
 
 On the deck we sat, and drifted 
 Down the Rhine as on a throne; 
 
 And the banks, bright green with summer, 
 In the radiant twilight shone. 
 
 And there was a gracious lady; 
 
 At her feet I sat and dreamed. 
 On that pale, dear face the ruddy, 
 
 Burnished gold of sunset gleamed. 
 
 Lutes were ringing, boys were singing; 
 
 Happiness on every side ! 
 And the vault of heaven grew bluer, 
 
 And the very soul grew wide. 
 
 And there passed, as in a legend, 
 Cliff and castle, wood and field . . . 
 
 And I saw them through her beauty; 
 In her eyes they lay revealed. 
 
The Home-Coming 115 
 
 41. 
 'Itn Traum sah ich die Geliebte 
 
 I saw in a dream the Beloved, 
 A woman careworn and gray ; 
 
 That radiant, blossoming body- 
 Withered and fallen away. 
 
 One child in her arms she carried, 
 
 And one by her hand was led ; 
 And struggle and sorrow were written 
 
 In her look, her clothes, her tread. 
 
 She stumbled toward the market, 
 
 And there I met her, and she 
 Saw me, and I began speaking 
 
 Calmly and mournfully : 
 
 " Oh, come with me to my dwelling, 
 
 For thou art sick and pale ; 
 And meat and drink I'll work for 
 
 To make thee whole and hale. 
 
 " And I will tend and cherish 
 
 Thy children undented; 
 But thee, before all others, 
 
 Thou poor, unfortunate child. 
 
 " And I will never speak of 
 
 My love so torn and deep. 
 And when at last thou diest, 
 
 Upon thy grave I'll weep." 
 
n6 Book of Songs 
 
 42. 
 Teurer Freund! Was soil es nutzen 
 
 Why, my friend, this same old fretting, 
 In the same, monotonous fashion? 
 
 Will you be forever setting 
 
 On the addled eggs of passion? 
 
 " Ah ! It's no small task to tackle ! 
 
 First the chicks come, thin and sickly; 
 Then, when they begin to cackle, 
 
 In a book you clap them, quickly." 
 
 43- 
 Werdet nur nicht ungeduldig 
 
 Listen ; do not grow impatient, 
 
 Though I keep the old note ringing, 
 
 And you hear the old heart-sickness, 
 Even in my latest singing. 
 
 Only wait — these dying echoes 
 
 Soon will cease ; and with new power, 
 
 Lo, a new, poetic Springtime 
 
 In a heart that's healed will flower. 
 
The Home-Coming 117 
 
 44. 
 Nun ist es Zeit, dass ich mit Verstand 
 
 Now it is time that I should start 
 
 And leave all folly behind me. 
 As comic actor I've played my part 
 
 In a comedy that was assigned me. 
 
 The settings were painted brilliant and bold 
 
 In the latest romantic fashions ; 
 My knightly mantle was splendid with gold ; 
 
 I thrilled with the noblest passions. 
 
 And now at last I must say good-by 
 To speeches once distracting . . . 
 
 But I am wretched and I sigh 
 As though I still were acting. 
 
 Oh God! unknown I spoke in jest 
 
 The things I felt most deeply; 
 I've acted, with death in my very breast, 
 
 The dying hero, cheaply. 
 
 45- 
 Den Koniff Wiswamitra 
 
 The good king Wiswamitra 
 
 Has little quiet now ; 
 He'll fight, he'tl fret, he'll famish 
 
 To get Wasishta's cow. 
 
1 1 8 Book of Songs 
 
 Oh, good king Wiswamitra, 
 Oh, what an ox art thou; 
 
 Such fastings, such great torments — 
 And all for that one cow ! 
 
 46. 
 HerZj mein Herz, sei nicht beklommen 
 
 Heart, my heart, let naught o'ercome you ; 
 
 Bear your destiny and pain. 
 
 Spring will bring you back again 
 What the Winter's taken from you. 
 
 And how much is left! The small things 
 And the whole of earth is fair ! 
 Heart, you never need despair — 
 
 You can love, not one, but all things ! 
 
 47- 
 Du bist wie eine Blume 
 
 Child, you are like a flower, 
 So sweet and pure and fair ; 
 
 I look at you and sadness 
 Comes on me, like a prayer. 
 
 I must lay my hands on your forehead 
 
 And pray God to be sure 
 To keep you forever and always 
 
 So sweet and fair — and pure. 
 
The Home-Coming 119 
 
 48. 
 Kind! es ware dein Verderben 
 
 Child, I know 'twould be your ruin, 
 
 And my thoughts keep guard and turn there ; 
 
 That your heart may not be kindled 
 With the love that used to burn there. 
 
 But my too successful triumph 
 
 Somehow does not quite delight me. 
 
 And I keep on thinking, hoping 
 
 You might love me yet — despite me. 
 
 49- 
 Wenn ich auf dem Lager liege 
 
 When I lie down for comfort 
 
 Upon the pillows of night, 
 There rises and floats before me 
 
 A phantom clothed in light. 
 
 As soon as smiling Slumber 
 With soft hands locks my eyes, 
 
 Into my dream the vision 
 Creeps with a sweet surprise. 
 
 But even with the morning 
 The dream persists and stays; 
 
 The sunlight cannot melt it — 
 I carry it all my days. 
 
120 Book of Songs 
 
 So. 
 
 'Madchen mit dem roten Miindchen 
 
 Girl whose mouth is red and laughing ; 
 
 Girl whose eyes are soft and bright, 
 All my being moves about you, 
 
 Thinking of you day and night. 
 
 Long, how long, this winter evening; 
 
 And I yearn the whole night through 
 To be sitting, talking lightly, 
 
 In the little room with you. 
 
 To my lips I would be pressing, 
 Love, your slender, tender hand; 
 
 And my tears would tremble, blessing 
 That beloved and blessed hand. 
 
 Mag da draussen Schnee sich tiirmen 
 
 Snows and storms may whirl in torrents ; 
 And I watch, without abhorrence, 
 Hail at all my windows storming; 
 For they never seem alarming 
 While my heart can hold this grace : 
 Spring, — and one dear, Spring-like face. 
 
The Home-Coming 121 
 
 52. 
 
 Verriet mein Masses Angesicht 
 
 Did not my pallid face betray 
 
 The passion that I bore you? 
 And did you think my haughty lips 
 
 Would, beggar-like, implore you ? 
 
 Those haughty lips were only made 
 
 For kisses, jests and lying — 
 They'd form a mocking, scornful word 
 
 Even though I were dying. 
 
 53- 
 " Teurer Freund, du bist verliebt " 
 
 " Ah, my friend, you are in love 
 
 And new torments chain you tighter ; 
 
 For your brain is growing duller, 
 As your foolish heart grows lighter. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, you are in love, 
 , Though the truth is unconfessed; 
 Why, I see your heart's blood glowing — 
 Blushing, even through your vest ! " 
 
122 Book of Songs 
 
 54- 
 Ich wollte bei dir weilen 
 
 I sought your side, the only 
 Peace that I ever knew; 
 
 You left me, worn and lonely — 
 You had so much to do. 
 
 I said I gave you wholly 
 Body and soul; and how 
 
 You laughed, laughed long and drolly, 
 And made a twinkling bow. 
 
 With all these things you tried me ; 
 
 You even dared do this : 
 You roused and then denied me 
 
 A single, parting kiss. 
 
 Think not because of my snarling 
 I'll shoot myself at your door ! . . . 
 
 All this, my precious darling, 
 Has happened to me before. 
 
 55- 
 Saphire sind die Augen dein 
 
 Sapphires are those eyes of yours, 
 None lovelier or braver ; 
 
 Thrice happy is the lucky man 
 On whom they shine with favor. 
 
The Home-Coming 123 
 
 Your heart is a warm diamond, 
 
 A light that never dwindles. 
 Thrice happy is the lucky man 
 
 For whom that fire kindles. 
 
 Twin rubies are those lips of yours, 
 
 A rich and radiant measure. 
 Thrice happy is the lucky man 
 
 Who can possess this treasure. 
 
 Oh, could I know that lucky man, 
 
 And find that happy lover, 
 Nicely alone in some deep wood — 
 
 His luck would soon be over. 
 
 56. 
 Habe mich mit Liebesreden 
 
 I have lied to win you, precious; 
 
 Now my breast against yours burns. 
 And I lie in my own meshes, 
 
 And the jest to earnest turns. 
 
 And if ever you should leave me, 
 With a jest, as is your right, 
 
 Earnestly, while fiends receive me, 
 I will shoot myself that night. 
 
124 Book of Songs 
 
 57- 
 
 Zu fragmentarisch ist Welt und Leben 
 
 Life in this world is a muddled existence — 
 
 Our German professor will give me assistance. 
 
 He knows how to whip the whole thing into order ; 
 
 He'll make a neat System and keep it in line. 
 
 With scraps from his nightcap and dressing-gown's 
 
 border 
 He'd fill all the gaps in Creation's design. 
 
 58. 
 Ich hab' mir lang den Kopf zerbrochen 
 
 My head and brain are almost broken 
 
 With dreams and thinking, night and day; 
 
 But now your eyes have solved the problem, 
 They sweep my hesitance away. 
 
 And I will come to you quite boldly, 
 And meet your eyes' sweet, silent call. 
 
 And once again I am a lover . . . 
 Something I cannot grasp at all. 
 
 59- 
 Sie haben heut Abend desellschaft 
 
 They're having a party this evening 
 And the house is gay with light. 
 
 Above, at a brilliant window, 
 A shadow trembles in sight. 
 
The Home-Coming 125 
 
 You see me not; in darkness 
 
 I move alone, apart ; 
 How little can you see, then, 
 
 Into my darkened heart. 
 
 My darkened heart still loves you, 
 
 Loves you and tortures me, 
 And breaks and lies here bleeding — 
 
 But you can never see. 
 
 60. 
 Ich wollt' meine Schmerzen erg'ossen 
 
 Oh, that I could capture my sadness 
 And pour it all into one word ; 
 
 The glad-hearted breezes would lift it 
 And carry it off, like a bird. 
 
 They'd bear it to you, oh beloved, 
 That word of my passionate care ; 
 
 And every hour you'd hear it, 
 T would follow you everywhere. 
 
 Yes, when you have scarce closed your 
 eyelids, 
 
 And slumber over them streams, 
 That word will arise and pursue you — 
 
 Even into your dreams. 
 
126 Book of Songs 
 
 61. 
 Du hast Diamanten und Perlen 
 
 You've pearls and you've diamonds, my dearest, 
 You've all that most mortals revere ; 
 
 And oh, your blue eyes are the fairest — 
 What else could you ask for, my dear ? 
 
 Upon those blue eyes, my dearest, 
 
 I've written for many a year 
 A host of immortal poems — 
 
 What else could you ask for, my dear ? 
 
 And with those blue eyes, my dearest, 
 You wrought a bright torture here, 
 
 And lightly you led me to ruin — 
 
 What else could you ask for, my dear ? 
 
 62. 
 
 Wer zum erstenmale liebt 
 
 He who, for the first time, loves, 
 Even vainly, is a God. 
 But the man who loves again, 
 And still vainly, is a fool. 
 
 Such a fool am I ; the second 
 Time I love, still unrequited. 
 Sun and moon and stars are laughing; 
 And I laugh with them — and perish. 
 
The Home-Coming 127 
 
 63- 
 Zu der Lauheit und der Flauheit 
 
 In your tepid soul and vapid, 
 
 There's no strength to stand the shocks 
 Of my wild love, with its rapid 
 
 Force that breaks a path through rocks. 
 
 You, you want Love's broad, safe high-roads, 
 And a husband's arm through life; 
 
 Scorning all the glades and by-roads, — 
 Just a prim and pregnant wife. 
 
 64. 
 O, mein gnadiges Frdulein, erlaubt 
 
 Oh loveliest of ladies, may 
 
 This pale son of the Muses, 
 Upon thy swan-like bosom lay 
 
 His head with Love's own bruises. 
 
 " Oh sir ! To say such things to me 
 Out loud — in front of company ! " 
 
 Gaben mir Rat und gute Lehren 
 
 Of words and advice they were the donors; 
 They even promised me lavish honors. 
 My future was rosy, my fame would be great; 
 They'd be my patrons — I only need wait. 
 
128 Book of Songs 
 
 But still, with all their patronization, 
 I would have died of slow starvation, 
 Except for a man who chanced to be made 
 Of splendid stuff and who came to my aid. 
 
 Excellent fellow ! I look on and let him 
 Work for my dinner; I'll never forget him! 
 Ah, it's a pity that I never can 
 Kiss him — for I am that worthy man. 
 
 66. 
 Diesen liebenswurd! 'gerf Jungling 
 
 This most amiable youngster 
 Can't be spoken of too highly ; 
 
 Oft with wine, liqueurs and oysters 
 He regales me, almost shyly. 
 
 Charming are his coat and trousers 
 And his ties are most appealing; 
 
 And he comes here every morning 
 Just to ask me how I'm feeling. 
 
 Of my wide renown he gushes, 
 Of my grace, my wit and humor ; 
 
 And he swears to serve, and help me, 
 Grieving that he cannot do more. 
 
 And at many an evening party 
 'Mid the ladies' panegyrics, 
 
 With inspired voice and features 
 He recites my deathless lyrics. 
 
The Home-Coming 129 
 
 Oh, to find so rare a fellow 
 
 Makes me see the whole world gaily ; 
 
 In these sorry times, above all, 
 When his betters vanish daily. 
 
 67. 
 
 Mir traumt: ich bin dir Hebe Gott 
 
 I dreamt I was the dear Lord God 
 
 And sat in Heaven gaily, 
 The angels thronged about my feet 
 
 And praised my verses daily. 
 
 And cakes I ate and sweetmeats too, 
 
 My costly taste displaying. 
 I washed them down with rare old wines, 
 
 Without a thought of paying. 
 
 But the inaction bored me so, 
 
 I longed once more to revel ; 
 I thought, were I not God Himself, 
 
 I'd rather be the devil. 
 
 " Ho, long-legged Gabriel," I called, 
 " Put on thy boots, I prithee ; 
 
 Seek out my good old friend Eugene 
 And fetch him quickly with thee. 
 
 " Seek him not at the college halls, 
 Seek him where wine inspires; 
 
 Seek him not at St. Hedwig's church — 
 Seek him at Ma'm'selle Meyer's." 
 
130 Book of Songs 
 
 The angel spread his plumes and flew 
 Swift as a winged stallion, 
 
 And found and carried up to me 
 My friend, the old rapscallion. 
 
 " Yes, lad, I am the Lord Himself, 
 I rule each great and dumb thing ; 
 
 I always told you some fine day 
 I would amount to something. 
 
 " And I work wonders every hour, 
 Things that would quite enthuse you ; 
 
 To-day, for instance, I will change 
 All Berlin, to amuse you. 
 
 " The cobble-stones in every street 
 Shall split; and in their moister, 
 
 New-opened centers shall be found, 
 Juicy and f resh — an oyster ! 
 
 " A rain of gentle lemon-juice 
 Shall fall on them, bestowing 
 
 A grace ; and lo, through all the streets 
 Rhine wine shall keep on flowing. 
 
 " See how the folk of Berlin run ; 
 
 Their joy's too great to utter; 
 The heads of all the City Courts 
 
 Are drinking from the gutter. 
 
 " And look how glad the poets are, 
 How hungrily they rally! 
 
 The ensigns and lieutenants too 
 Lap up each street and alley. 
 
The Home-Coming ,131 
 
 " The soldiers tho' are cleverest, 
 Their shrewdness they display there. 
 
 They know that miracles like this 
 Don't happen every day there." 
 
 68. 
 Von schonen Lippen fortgedrdngt, getrieben 
 
 Torn from bright lips I loved ; departing sadly 
 
 From those warm eyes that held me in their heaven. 
 
 I would have stayed another day, and gladly, 
 But then the coach came up — and I was driven. 
 
 Child, that is life! A constant cry and wailing; 
 
 A constant parting, though your arms enfold me. 
 Keep me — but see, no heart can be unfailing; 
 
 Even your eyes were powerless to hold me. 
 
 69. 
 'WW fuhren allein im dunkeln 
 
 Alone in the dim post-wagon 
 
 We sat and rode through the night ; 
 
 Closely together we nestled, 
 With laughter the hours were light. 
 
132 Book of Songs 
 
 But oh, my love, next morning — 
 And how we stared to find, 
 
 Sitting between us, Cupid ; 
 The boy that seemed so blind ! 1 
 
 70. 
 Wie dunkle Traume stehen 
 
 Like a dark dream the houses 
 
 Stretch in a ghastly row; 
 .Wrapped in my mantle softly 
 
 I pass them, silent and slow. 
 
 The tower of the cathedral 
 Rings with the midnight hour ; 
 
 And now my sweetheart is waiting 
 With all of her charms in flower. 
 
 The moon's my friend and companion, 
 He lights the ways that are dim ; 
 
 And as I come to her dwelling 
 Gladly I call to him : 
 
 1 The original: 
 
 Dock als es Morgens tagte, 
 
 Mein Kind, wie staunien wir! 
 Denn zwischen uns sass Amor, 
 Der blinde Passagier. 
 It is possible that in "der blinde Passagier" Heine was half- 
 punning on a bit of German slang. A "blind passenger" being 
 one who, like a stowaway, gets in anywhere without paying ; one 
 who, in our own street idiom, " beats his way." 
 
The Home-Coming 133 
 
 " I thank you, good old comrade, 
 Through you no path was furled ; 
 
 And now, since I must leave you, 
 Go light the rest of the world. 
 
 " And if you find a lover 
 
 Heaving a lonely sigh, 
 Console him as you consoled me, 
 
 My friend, in the days gone by." 
 
 7i- 
 Hast du die Lippen mir ivund gekusst 
 
 With kisses my lips were wounded by you, 
 
 So kiss them well again ; 
 And if by evening you are not through, 
 
 You need not hurry then. 
 
 For you have still the whole, long night, 
 
 Darling, to comfort me! 
 And what long kisses and what delight 
 
 In such a night may be. 
 
 72. 
 Und bist du erst mein ehlich Weib 
 
 And when you're once my wedded wife 
 You'll be an envied one, dear ; 
 
 For then you'll live the happiest life 
 With nought but pleasure and fun, dear. 
 
134 Book of Songs 
 
 And if you should scold I will not curse, 
 'Twill be a matter of course, dear ; 
 
 But ah, should you disdain my verse, 
 I'll get me a divorce, dear. 
 
 73- 
 'A Is sie mich umschlang mit zartlichem Pressen 
 
 When I am enwrapped in her tender embraces 
 
 My soul seeks the skies like a thing that is driven! 
 
 I let it ascend; and meanwhile no place is 
 
 As sweet as her lips, where I drink draughts of 
 heaven. 
 
 74 
 In den Kiissen, welche huge 
 
 Oh what lies there are in kisses! 
 
 And their guile so well prepared ! 
 Sweet the snaring is ; but this is 
 
 Sweeter still, to be ensnared. 
 
 Though your protests overwhelm me, 
 Still I know what you'll allow. 
 
 Yet I'll swear by all you tell me ; 
 I'll believe all you avow. 
 
The Home-Coming 135 
 
 75- 
 r An deine schneeweisse Schulter 
 
 Upon your snow-white shoulder 
 
 My weary head's at rest, 
 And I can hear the longing 
 
 That stirs within your breast. 
 
 The blue Hussars come bugling, 
 
 Come riding past your door ; 
 And to-morrow, my love, you'll leave me 
 
 And I shall see you no more. 
 
 But though you will leave me to-morrow, 
 
 To-day you are wholly mine ; 
 To-day you shall bless me doubly, 
 
 Closer your arms shall twine. 
 
 76. 
 Es blasen die blauen Husaren 
 
 The blue Hussars go bugling 
 
 Out of the town and away; 
 I come to you now, my sweetheart, 
 
 Bringing a rose bouquet. 
 
 That was a mad, wild uproar ; 
 
 Crowding in every part ! 
 But there was a place for many, 
 
 Even in your small heart. 
 
136 Book of Songs 
 
 77- 
 Habe auch in jungen Jahren 
 
 In my youth when Love was yearning, 
 I was often sad, and burning 
 
 Like a cord of wood. 
 Now the price of fuel's higher, 
 And the cost has quenched the fire, 
 
 Ma foil and that is good. 
 
 Think of this, my pretty darlings, 
 Cease your silly tears and quarrelings ; 
 
 Stupid griefs and harms. 
 You have Life, that precious bubble; 
 So forget Love's ancient trouble, 
 
 Ma foil within my arms. 
 
 7 8. 
 Bist du wirklich mir so feindlich 
 
 Have you really grown to hate me ? 
 
 Is the dreaded change completed ? 
 Then the world shall hear my grievance, 
 
 Hear how badly I've been treated. 
 
 Oh, ungrateful lips, how could ye 
 Utter such a shameful story 
 
 Of the man whose kisses thrilled ye 
 In those days of perished glory. 
 
The Home-Coming 137 
 
 79- 
 'Ach, die Aug en sind es wieder 
 
 Ah, those eyes again which always 
 Made my welcome seem completer ; 
 
 And those lips again which always 
 Made my harsh life somehow sweeter. 
 
 And the voice is just as always, 
 When its lightest whisper gladdened. 
 
 Only I am not as always; 
 I am home, but changed and saddened. 
 
 Now I feel white arms about me 
 Close and passionately twining, — 
 
 Yet I lie upon her bosom 
 Unresponsive and repining. 
 
 80. 
 Himmlisch war's, wenn ich bezwang 
 
 'Tis a heavenly pleasure indeed, 
 
 Curbing Passion's wild excess; 
 And when I do not succeed 
 
 'Tis a pleasure none the less. 
 
138 Book of Songs 
 
 81. 
 Selten habt ihr mich verstanden 
 
 Hard to understand your gabble; 
 
 And my thoughts you fail to reach. 
 Only when in filth we dabble 
 
 Do we find a common speech. 
 
 82. 
 'Dock die Kastraten klagten 
 
 And still the eunuchs grumbled, 
 Whene'er my voice arose ; 
 
 They grumbled as they mumbled 
 My songs were far to*gross. 
 
 And oh, how sweetly thrilling 
 Their little voices were ; 
 
 Their light and limpid trilling 
 Made such a pretty stir. 
 
 They sang of Love, the leaping 
 Flood that engulfs the heart . . 
 
 The ladies all were weeping 
 At such a feast of Art ! 
 
The Home-Coming 139 
 
 83- 
 'Auf den Wallen Salamankas 
 
 On the walls of Salamanca 
 Where the very winds are fonder, 
 
 Slowly, with my lovely Donna, 
 In the summer dusk we wander. 
 
 And my arm is bent about her 
 
 Slender body, and it lingers 
 As I feel her haughty bosom 
 
 Heave beneath my happy fingers. 
 
 But a vague and threatening whisper 
 From the linden makes me gloomy ; 
 
 And the millwheel's evil murmur 
 Sends a dark foreboding through me. 
 
 "Ah Sefiora, something tells me 
 
 Nevermore we two shall wander 
 On the walls of Salamanca, 
 
 Where the very winds are fonder." 
 
 84. 
 Kaum sahen wir uns, und an Augen und Stimmen 
 
 As soon as we met we were 'wrapped in each other, 
 Your eyes and your voice showed you would not 
 resist ; 
 
 And had it not been for that dragon, your mother, 
 There, in that instant, I think we'd have kissed. 
 
14° Book of Songs 
 
 To-morrow, alas, I must leave the quaint city 
 And go the old way, as if bound by a spell. 
 
 And you will look down from your window in pity; 
 And I — I will wave back a friendly farewell. 
 
 85- 
 IJber die Berge steigt schon die Sonne 
 
 Over the mountains the sun throws his fire; 
 
 The bells of the lambs in the distance are low. 
 My love and my lamb, my own sun of desire, 
 
 Once more I would see you before I must go. 
 
 I gaze at her window, impatient and muffled — 
 " My child, fare thee well ; I am parting from thee ! " 
 
 In vain ! Nothing moves, not a curtain is ruffled ; 
 For still she lies sleeping and dreaming . . . of me ? 
 
 86. 
 Zu Halle auf dem 'Markt 
 
 In Halle's market-place 
 There stand two mighty lions. 
 Observe their hollow boldness ; see 
 How quickly men have tamed them ! 
 
 In Halle's market-place 
 There stands a mighty giant. 
 He has a sword, but wields it not. 
 Some fear has petrified him. 
 
The Home-Coming 141 
 
 In Halle's market-place 
 There stands a great cathedral, 
 Where city-folk and others too 
 Have plenty of room to pray in. 
 
 87. 
 Schone, wirtschaftliche Dame 
 
 Lovely and efficient lady, 
 
 House and farm are well endowed ; 
 And your cellar's well appointed, 
 
 And your fields are all well ploughed. 
 
 In your clean and shining garden 
 Weeds can never raise their heads ; 
 
 And the straw, when threshing's over, 
 Will be used to stuff the beds. 
 
 But your heart and lips, fair lady, 
 Fallow lie, as hard as stone; 
 
 And the bed is but half useful 
 Where you lie and sleep — alone. 
 
 88. 
 Dammernd Uegt der Sommer abend 
 
 Softly now the summer twilight 
 Lies upon the woods and meadows ; 
 And a golden moon looks downward 
 
 With a comforting and shy light. 
 
142 Book of Songs 
 
 By the brook and in its islands 
 Crickets chirp; the water murmurs. 
 And the wanderer hears a plashing 
 
 And a breathing in the silence. 
 
 There, alone, unclad, unfrightened, 
 See, a water-nymph is bathing. 
 How those white limbs in the water 
 
 And the moon are doubly whitened ! 
 
 89. 
 Nacht liegt auf den fremden Wegen 
 
 Night lies on the strange, dark roadways; 
 
 Weary limbs and heart distress me . . . 
 Ah, sweet moon, through you my load weighs 
 
 Lighter, as your soft beams bless me. 
 
 Radiant moon, your gentle wonder 
 Sends Night's ancient terrors reeling; 
 
 All my fears are torn asunder, 
 And the happy tears come healing. 
 
 90. 
 Der Tod, das ist die kiihle Nacht 
 
 Death — it is but the long, cool night; 
 
 And Life is but a sultry day. 
 
 It darkens, and I slumber; 
 I am weary of the light. 
 
The Home-Coming 143 
 
 Over my bed a strange tree gleams, 
 And there a nightingale is loud; 
 She sings of love, love only . . . 
 
 I hear it in my dreams. 
 
 91. 
 
 " Sag, wo ist dein schones Liebchen " 
 
 "Where is now your precious darling, 
 That you sang about so sweetly, 
 
 When the magic, flaming torrent 
 
 Fired and filled your heart completely? " 
 
 Ah, that fire is extinguished, 
 
 And my heart no longer flashes; 
 
 And this book's an urn containing 
 All my love — and all its ashes. 
 
 DUSK OF THE GODS 
 
 Her Mai ist da mit seinen goldnen Lichtern 
 
 The May is here with all her golden glamor, 
 
 And silken zephyrs and warm, spicy odors. 
 
 She lures me, laughing, with her snowy blossoms, 
 
 And greets me with the thousand eyes of violets. 
 
 She spreads a wide green carpet rich with flowers, 
 
 Woven throughout with sun and morning dew; 
 
 And thus she calls to all her well-loved mortals. 
 
 The pale-faced, shut-in people hear her first; 
 
 The men put on their fancy trousers 
 
 And Sunday coats with gold and glassy buttons ; 
 
 The women all wear white — for innocence ; 
 
I44 Book of Songs 
 
 /Youths start to train and twirl the vernal mustache; 
 -Young girls begin a heaving of the bosom ; 
 The city poets stuff into their pockets 
 Pencil and pad and opera-glass ! and gladly 
 The gaily-colored crowds make for the gates, 
 And camp outside upon the verdant hillsides, 
 Amazed to see the trees so busily growing; 
 Playing with sweet and brightly-colored flowers, 
 Hearing the songs of birds, clear-toned and joyful, 
 And shouting exultations up to heaven. 
 
 May called upon me too. She knocked three times 
 
 Upon my door and cried, " I am the May ! 
 
 Thou pallid dreamer, come, — and I will kiss thee ! " 
 
 I held my door closed tight, and called to her : 
 
 Your lures are all in vain, false visitor. 
 
 I have seen through you, May ; I have seen through 
 
 The world's vast plan — and I have looked too long, 
 
 And much too deep; for all my joy has vanished, 
 
 And deathless troubles rankle in my heart. 
 
 I see right through the hard and stony cover 
 
 Of all men's houses and of all men's hearts, 
 
 And see in both lies and deceit and torture. 
 
 I read men's thoughts by looking at their faces, 
 
 Most of them evil. In the blush of maidens 
 
 I see the trembling wish beneath the shame; 
 
 Upon Youth's proud and visionary head 
 
 I see the cap-and-bells of stupid folly ; 
 
 And twisted phantom-pictures, crazy shadows 
 
 Are all I see, — until I scarcely know 
 
 If earth's a madhouse or a hospital. 
 
Dusk of the Gods 145 
 
 I see right through the earth to its foundations, 
 As though 'twere crystal, and I see the horrors 
 That May, with all her green and gladdening cover, 
 Hides all in vain. I see the dead : 
 They lie below there in their narrow coffins, 
 Their still hands folded and their blind eyes open; 
 White are their robes and whiter still their faces. 
 And through black lips the yellow worms are crawling. 
 I see the son sitting beside his mistress, 
 Taking their pleasure on his father's grave ; 
 The nightingales sing mocking songs around them ; 
 The gentle meadow-flowers grin and chuckle. 
 Deep in his grave the father stirs and shivers — 
 And Mother Earth is torn with painful spasms. 
 
 Oh Earth, poor Earth, I know your pains and sorrows ; 
 
 I see the fire raging in your bosom, 
 
 I see you bleeding from a thousand veins, 
 
 I see your countless wounds torn wide and gaping, 
 
 Pouring out streams of flame and smoke and blood. 
 
 I see those stark, defiant sons of giants, 
 
 Your primal brood, climb from the gloomy chasms 
 
 Swinging red torches in their horny hands. 
 
 They fix their iron ladders to the skies 
 
 And rush to storm the citadel of Heaven. 
 
 Black dwarfs swarm hotly after them ; and, crackling, 
 
 The golden stars crumble to dust and ashes. 
 
 Dark, impious hands tear down the golden curtain 
 
 From God's own shrine ; and with a frightful shrieking 
 
 The holy angels fall upon their faces. 
 
 Upon his throne a pale and frightened God 
 
 Plucks off his diadem and tears his hair . . . 
 
 And still the savage horde draws nearer, nearer. 
 
146 Book of Songs 
 
 The giants hurl their rain of blazing torches 
 Into the vaults of heaven ; the dwarfs belabor 
 The backs of angels with their flaming scourges. 
 In pain the stricken spirits cringe and cower, 
 And by the hair they are torn down and vanquished. 
 
 And there, I see my own dear angel stand 
 
 With her blonde locks, her sweet, inspiring features, 
 
 And with eternal love about her lips, 
 
 And with great blessings in her great, blue eyes — 
 
 When lo, a frightful, black and evil goblin 
 
 Tears from the ground my pale and trembling angel. 
 
 Grinning, he gloats upon her noble beauty, 
 
 And clasps her close with tightening embraces . . . 
 
 A shriek of horror cleaves the universe, 
 
 Its pillars topple, Earth and Heaven crumple . . . 
 
 And Night resumes its black and ancient rule. 
 
 DONNA CLARA 
 
 In dem abendlichen Garten 
 
 In the evening-colored garden 
 Wanders the Alcalde's daughter ; 
 Trumpets' and the drums' rejoicings 
 Rise and echo from the castle. 
 
 " Oh, I weary of the dances, 
 And the cloying, fatuous phrases 
 Of the knights, who, bowing deeply, 
 To the sun itself compare me. 
 
Donna Clara 147 
 
 " Everything seems dull and tiresome 
 Since by moonlight I beheld him, 
 Him, my hero, whose sweet lute-strings 
 Draw me nightly to my window. 
 
 " How he stood ; so slim and fiery, 
 And his eyes were burning boldly 
 From his pale and classic features — 
 Looking truly like St. George did." 
 
 Thus mused lovely Donna Clara, 
 Gazing at the ground beneath her; 
 As she looked up — lo, the handsome 
 Unknown knight stood there before her. 
 
 Clasping hands with trembling passion, 
 Now they wander in the moonlight ; 
 Now the flattering breeze is friendly; 
 Great, enchanted roses greet them. 
 
 Great, enchanted roses greet them, 
 Redder than love's flaming heralds ... 
 " Ah, but tell me, my beloved, 
 Why these deep and sudden blushes." 
 
 " Gnats were stinging me, my dearest, 
 And I hate these gnats in summer ; 
 Hate them, love, as though they might be 
 Nasty Jews with long, hooked noses." 
 
 " Jews and gnats — let us forget them," 
 Says the knight, with soft persuasion . . . 
 From the almond tree a thousand 
 Flower-flakes of white are falling. 
 
148 Book of Songs 
 
 Flower-flakes of white are falling, 
 
 And their perfume spills about them — 
 
 " Ah, but tell me, my beloved, 
 
 Is your heart mine, and mine only ? " 
 
 " Yes, I love but you, my dearest, 
 And I swear it by the Saviour 
 Whom the Jews, God's curse upon them, 
 Did betray and foully murder." 
 
 " Jews and Saviour — let's forget them," 
 Says the knight, with soft persuasion . . . 
 Far-off in the dreamy distance 
 Lilies gleam with light surrounded. 
 
 Lilies gleam, with light surrounded, 
 Gazing at the stars above them. — 
 " Ah, but tell me, my beloved, 
 Have you not perhaps sworn falsely ? " 
 
 " Nothing's false in me, my dearest ; 
 Just as in my breast there courses 
 Not a drop of blood that's Moorish, 
 Nor a taint of Jewish foulness." 
 
 " Jews and Moors — let us forget them," 
 Says the knight, with soft persuasion, 
 And, into a grove of myrtle, 
 Guides the fair Alcalde's daughter. 
 
 With Love's soft and supple meshes 
 He has secretly entrapped her. 
 Short their words, but long their kisses; 
 And their hearts are running over. 
 
Donna Clara 149 
 
 Like a melting, poignant bride-song, 
 Sings the nightingale, uplifted; 
 Like a thousand torchlight dancers 
 Leap the fireflies from the bushes. 
 
 In the grove the stillness deepens. 
 Nought is heard except the murmurs 
 Of the wise and nodding myrtle 
 And the breathing of the flowers. 
 
 But the shock of drums and trumpets 
 Breaks out wildly from the castle, 
 And it wakes the lovely Clara 
 From the arms of her beloved. 
 
 " Hark! they call to me, my dearest; 
 But before we part, pray tell me 
 What, my love, your own dear name is 
 That you've hidden so long from me." 
 
 And the knight, with gentle laughter, 
 Presses kisses on her fingers, 
 On her lips and on her forehead; 
 And at last he turns and answers : 
 
 " I, Sefiora, your beloved, 
 Am the son of the respected, 
 Erudite and noble Rabbi 
 Israel of Saragossa." 
 
150 Book of Songs 
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR 
 I. 
 
 Am Fenster stand die Mutter 
 
 The mother stands by the window, 
 The son on the bed doth lie. 
 
 "Will you not rise up, William, 
 And see the throngs go by ? " 
 
 " I am so sick, my mother, 
 
 I cannot hear or see; 
 The thought of my dead Gretchen 
 
 Is all that lives in me." 
 
 " Rise up, and then to Kevlaar 
 With book and cross we'll go ; 
 
 God's Mother, She will heal you 
 And rid your heart of woe." 
 
 The churchly banners flutter, 
 Louder the chanting grows; 
 
 From Coin, beside Rhine River, 
 The long procession goes. 
 
 The mother joins the pilgrims, 
 She leads her son in the line, 
 
 And they too swell the chorus : 
 
 " Queen Mary, praise be Thine ! " 
 
The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar 151 
 
 2. 
 Die Mutter-Gottes zu Kevlaar 
 
 The Mother of God in Kevlaar 
 
 Puts on her finest cloak — 
 To-day they will keep her busy, 
 
 The crowds of wretched folk. 
 
 For all the sick in Kevlaar ' 
 
 Bring her, as offerings meet, 
 Limbs made of cunning waxwork, 
 
 Wax arms and waxen feet. 
 
 And whoso brings a wax arm 
 His arm is healed of its wound, 
 
 And whoso brings a wax foot 
 His foot grows strong and sound. 
 
 Oh many have come to Kevlaar 
 On crutches who danced away; 
 
 And many whose fingers were palsied 
 Can take up the fiddle and play. 
 
 The mother took up a wax light 
 And moulded therefrom a heart ; 
 
 " Take this to Mother Mary 
 And She will ease the smart." 
 
 And sighing he took the wax heart, 
 And sighing he knelt and prayed; 
 
 The tears in his eyes were trembling, 
 And tremblingly he said ; 
 
I5 2 Book of Songs 
 
 " Oh Holiest of the Holy, 
 
 Virgin, divinely fair, 
 Empress of all the Heavens 
 
 To Thee I bring my care. 
 
 " At Coin with my aging mother 
 
 I live within the town, 
 The city of a hundred churches 
 
 And chapels of renown. 
 
 " And near us lived my Gretchen 
 Who now lies underground — 
 
 Mary, I bring Thee a wax heart, 
 Heal Thou my heart's great wound. 
 
 " Cure Thou my long heart-sickness, 
 And daily, rain or shine, 
 
 Fervently I will worship. 
 
 Queen Mary, praise be Thine ! " 
 
 3- 
 Her kranke Sohn und die Mutter 
 
 The heartsick son and the mother 
 Were sleeping in the gloom, 
 
 And the Mother of God came softly 
 And entered the little room. 
 
 She bent down over the lover 
 And one white hand was drawn 
 
 Over his heart so gently . . . 
 And, smiling, She was gone. 
 
The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar 153 
 
 In a dream the mother saw this, 
 And would have seen still more 
 
 But the dogs' loud baying awoke her ; 
 She stumbled to the floor. 
 
 And there, stretched out and quiet, 
 He lay — and he was dead. 
 
 And on his cheeks the daybreak 
 Shone with a sudden red. 
 
 She folded her hands and sat there, 
 She did not rail or whine; 
 
 She murmured over and over, 
 " Queen Mary, praise be Thine ! " 
 
FROM "THE HARZ JOURNEY" 
 (1824) 
 
PROLOG 
 
 Schwarze Rocke, seidne Striimpfe 
 
 Black dress-coats and silken stockings, 
 Cuffs of snowy white — beshrew them ! 
 
 Soft embraces, oily speeches. 
 Ah, if but a heart beat through them! 
 
 If a storm could stir your shirt-fronts, 
 Ruffle them in any fashion! — 
 
 Oh, you kill me with your maudlin 
 Bursts of imitation passion. 
 
 I will go and climb the mountains 
 Where the simple huts are standing, 
 
 Where the winds blow fresh and freely, 
 And a chest may try expanding. 
 
 I will go and climb the mountains 
 Where the mighty pine-trees tower, 
 
 Where the birds and brooks are singing, 
 And the heavens grow in power. 
 
 Fare ye well, ye polished Salons, 
 
 Polished folk and polished chaffing — 
 
 I will climb the rugged mountains 
 And look down upon you, laughing. 
 
 157 
 
158 Book of Songs 
 
 A MOUNTAIN IDYL 
 
 1. 
 Auf dem Berge steht die Hiitte 
 
 On the mountain stands a cabin 
 Wherein lives a mountaineer ; 
 
 All the evergreens are rustling 
 And the moon turns golden here. 
 
 In the cabin there's an armchair 
 Curiously carved and high. 
 
 He who sits in it is lucky; 
 And that lucky man am I. 
 
 On the footstool there's a maiden, 
 In my lap her arms repose; 
 
 Eyes like two blue stars that sparkle, 
 And her mouth's a crimson rose. 
 
 And those dear blue eyes grow larger 
 While the wonder in them grows; 
 
 And she lays a lily finger 
 Shyly on the crimson rose. 
 
 No, the mother does not see us, 
 For she spins and spins away; 
 
 And the father plays the zither, 
 Singing some forgotten lay. 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 159 
 
 And the maiden whispers softly, 
 
 Softly, almost breathlessly; 
 While a host of weighty secrets 
 
 Gravely she confides to me. 
 
 " But since Auntie died," she tells me, 
 
 " We can never hope to go 
 To the picnic-grounds at Goslar ; 
 
 That's the loveliest place I know. 
 
 " On the mountains here, it's lonely; 
 
 Colder far than down below ; 
 And in Winter we are almost 
 
 Lost and buried in the snow. 
 
 " Though I'm quite a girl, I tremble 
 Like a child that's seized with fright, 
 
 At the evil mountain spirits 
 
 And the things they do by night." 
 
 Suddenly she stops, as though her 
 Own words chill and terrorize ; 
 
 And she raises both hands quickly, 
 Quickly covering her eyes. 
 
 In the trees the rustling's louder, 
 Faster still the wheel is stirred, 
 
 And above the tinkling zither 
 Something of the song is heard : 
 
 " Do not fear, my child, my darling, 
 
 Fear no spirits evil might! 
 Overhead, my child, my darling, 
 
 Angels guard thee day and night! " 
 
i<5o Book of Songs 
 
 Tannenbaum, mit grunen Fingern 
 
 Now the fir-tree's long, green fingers 
 Tap against the window-pane, 
 
 And the moon, that quiet listener, 
 Sheds a flood of golden rain. 
 
 Father, mother, sleeping soundly, 
 Snore for hours without a break ; 
 
 But we two, with lively chatter, 
 Keep each other wide awake. 
 
 " That you spend much time in praying 
 I've my doubts; for always there 
 
 Is a sneer about your features 
 That was never caused by prayer. 
 
 " Oh that sneer, so cold and evil, 
 Frightens me and terrifies — 
 
 But my terror seems to vanish 
 When I see your gentle eyes. 
 
 " And I doubt that you believe in 
 
 The inspired Faith of most. 
 Don't you worship God the Father, 
 
 And the Son and Holy Ghost ? " . . ; » 
 
 " Ah, my child, while still an infant, 
 While at mother's knee I stood, 
 
 I believed in God the Father, 
 He whose rule is great and good. 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 161 
 
 " He who made the earth we dwell on, 
 
 And the people here below; 
 He who made sun, moon and planets, 
 
 Teaching them the way to go. 
 
 " Then, my child, as I grew older, 
 
 My belief had but begun, 
 And I mastered many new things, 
 
 And I worshiped God — and Son; 
 
 "The Beloved Son, who, loving, 
 Gave us love to bless and guide ; 
 
 And for his reward, as usual, 
 He was scorned and crucified. 
 
 " Now that I've matured and learned much, 
 Read and roamed from coast to coast, 
 
 Now my heart, with deep conviction, 
 Bows before the Holy Ghost. 
 
 " He has worked the greatest wonders, 
 And he works them still ; he broke, 
 
 Once for all, the tyrant's power, 
 And he burst the bondman's yoke. 
 
 " All the ancient scars have vanished, 
 
 Justice takes its rightful place ; 
 Now all men are free and equal 
 
 In a pure and noble race. 
 
 " Mists and every evil fancy 
 That had filled each night and day, 
 
 Cares that crowded out our gladness — 
 These have all been swept away! 
 
i62 Book of Songs 
 
 " And a thousand armored champions 
 
 He has sanctified and sent 
 To fulfill his sacred mission, 
 
 Fired with their high intent. 
 
 " Lo, their splendid swords are shining 
 And their tossing flags are bright ! — ■ 
 
 What, my child, you long to look on 
 Such a proud and holy knight? 
 
 " Well, my child, come here and kiss me ; 
 
 Look at me and you can boast 
 You have known just such a doughty 
 
 Champion of the Holy Ghost." 
 
 3- 
 'Still versteckt der Mond sich draussen 
 
 Still the bashful moon is hiding 
 Close behind the evergreen ; 
 
 And the lamp upon the table 
 Flickers and is scarcely seen. 
 
 But those two blue stars are shining 
 O'er the heaven of her cheeks; 
 
 And the crimson rose is glowing, 
 And the lovely child still speaks. 
 
 " Tiny goblins, imp-like faeries 
 Clean our little cupboard bare ; 
 
 It is full of food at evening 
 And at daylight — nothing's there! 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 163 
 
 "And the thieving Little People 
 Skim our cream, our very best ; 
 
 Then they leave the pans uncovered 
 And the cat licks up the rest. 
 
 " And that cat's a witch, I know it ; 
 
 For she slinks off every night 
 To the old and ruined castle 
 
 On the haunted mountain-height. 
 
 " Once a mighty castle stood there 
 
 Full of armor and romance; 
 Shining knights and lovely ladies 
 
 Laughed in many a torchlight dance. 
 
 " Then an old enchantress cursed it, 
 Cursed each stone and winding stair. 
 
 Now there's nothing left but ruins ; 
 And the owls have nested there. 
 
 " But my dear old aunt once told me 
 If one speaks the Word of Might 
 
 At the proper, magic moment, 
 And the hour and place be right, 
 
 " Then the castle shall be lifted 
 From the ruined stones — and then 
 
 All the vanished knights and ladies 
 Will arise and dance again. 
 
 " And who speaks that word of magic, 
 Knights and ladies, wall and tower, 
 
 All are his; while drums and trumpets 
 Hail his new and happy power." . . 
 
164 Book of Songs 
 
 Thus the faery legends blossom 
 From her mouth, that rose-in-bloom, 
 
 While her eyes are pouring starlight 
 In the still and darkened room. 
 
 Round my hands she winds her golden 
 Tresses, binding me at will ; 
 
 Gives my fingers pretty nicknames; 
 Kisses, laughs — and then grows still. 
 
 And the hushed room edges closer, 
 Watching with a friendly light . . . 
 
 Table, chest — it seems I must have 
 Seen them all before to-night. 
 
 Amiably the old clock gossips, , 
 
 And the zither, scarcely heard, 
 
 Plays itself with airy fingers; 
 And, as in a dream, I'm stirred ... 
 
 This must be the proper hour; 
 
 Yes, the time and place are right. 
 And I think I feel it gliding 
 
 From my lips — that Word of Might ! 
 
 Do you see, my child, how quickly 
 Midnight trembles now and breaks ! 
 
 Brooks and pine-trees murmur louder, 
 And the ancient mountain wakes. 
 
 Clang of zither, elfin voices 
 
 Rise from glens and faery bowers; 
 
 And a wild, fantastic Springtime 
 Brings a forest full of flowers. 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 165 
 
 Flowers, trembling and audacious, 
 Flowers, strangely broad and tall, 
 
 Fling their eager scents and colors 
 As though passion swayed them all. 
 
 Roses, red as flame, and burning 
 From the brilliant tumult, rise ; 
 
 Lilies, like great crystal columns, 
 Tower straight into the skies. 
 
 And the stars, with fiery longing, 
 Great as suns, look down and blaze, 
 
 Till the lilies' hearts are flooded 
 With those eager, showering rays. 
 
 But ourselves, my child, are altered 
 More than all of these — and see! 
 
 Gleaming torches, silks and jewels 
 Shimmer 'round us radiantly. 
 
 You, you have become a princess, 
 
 And this hut's a castle tall; 
 Knights and ladies dance rejoicing; 
 
 And there's magic over all. 
 
 Ah, but I have won the castle, 
 
 Knights and ladies, wall and tower ; 
 
 Even you — and drums and trumpets 
 Hail my new and happy power ! 
 
1 66 Book of Songs 
 
 THE HERD-BOY 
 Koniff ist der Hirtenknabe 
 
 He's a king, this happy herd-boy, 
 And his throne's the grassy down; 
 
 And the sun above his forehead 
 Is his great and golden crown. 
 
 At his feet the sheep are lying, 
 Flattering courtiers, soft and sly; 
 
 And his cavaliers are cattle, 
 Stamping arrogantly by. 
 
 And the kids are his court-players; 
 
 Flutes of birds that hold carouse 
 Make a splendid chamber-music 
 
 With the gentle bells of cows. 
 
 And they ring and sing so sweetly, 
 And the soothing murmurs creep 
 
 From the waterfall and forest, 
 That the young king falls asleep. 
 
 Like a minister, his watch-dog, 
 Governs with an open ear — 
 
 And his loud, suspicious barking 
 Makes the very echoes fear. 
 
 Sleepily the young king mutters : 
 " Ah, to rule is hard and mean ; 
 
 How I wish that I were home now 
 With my cozy little queen ! 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 167 
 
 " On her dear and queenly bosom 
 
 Soft my regal head would lie ; 
 And I'd find my ancient kingdom 
 
 Shining in each love-lit eye." 
 
 ON THE BROCKEN 
 
 Heller wird es schon im Osten 
 
 Comes a spark, the sun's first glimmer ; 
 
 And the eastern sky's in motion. 
 Far and faint the mountain summits 
 
 Float upon a misty ocean. 
 
 Had I seven-league boots, I'd hasten 
 With the wind, as fast as telling; 
 
 Running on the tops of mountains 
 Till I reach my dear one's dwelling. 
 
 I would draw the curtains softly 
 From her bed, where she lies dreaming; 
 
 Softly I would kiss her forehead 
 And her lips twin rubies gleaming. 
 
 And still softer I would whisper 
 In her frail and lily ear, "Love, 
 
 Dream we've never lost each other; 
 Dream we're lovers still, my dear love." 
 
1 68 Book of Songs 
 
 THE ILSE* 
 Ich bin die Prinzessin Use 
 
 I am the Princess Use 
 
 And I dwell at Ilsenstein. 
 Come with me to my castle, 
 
 Thou shalt be blest — and mine. 
 
 There I shall bathe thy forehead 
 
 With waters clear and glad, 
 Until thy pain shall vanish, 
 
 Thou sick and sorrowing lad. 
 
 With my white arms about thee 
 
 Upon my breast thou'lt be ; 
 And thou shalt lie there dreaming 
 
 Of faery legendry. 
 
 * Here Heine has personified the famous stream and given to 
 it one of those loreleys that fill German tradition and verse. As 
 an introduction to this poem he has written, in one of the most 
 beautiful passages of "Die Harzreise" an exquisite description 
 of the river itself, part of which runs : 
 
 "It is indescribable, the merriment, the grace and the naivete 
 with which the Use leaps down upon and glides over the fan- 
 tastically piled rocks that she finds in her path . . . like a 
 sprightly girl. Yes, the saying is true, the Ilse is a Princess, 
 who, laughing and blossoming, runs down the mountains. How 
 her white garment of foam glitters in the sunlight! How the 
 silver band about her bosom flutters in the wind! How the 
 diamonds sparkle and flash! The high beech-tree stands near 
 her, like a grave father, secretly smiling at his forward and 
 favorite child; the white birches move about like delighted 
 aunts, who are nevertheless a bit anxious over such daring 
 leaps ; and the proud oak looks on like a troubled uncle, who 
 might have to pay for this lovely weather. . . . The flowers on 
 the bank murmur softly ' O, take us along, take us along, dear 
 sister.' But the wild girl, not to be held by anything, runs 
 on . . . and suddenly she seizes the dreaming poet; and over 
 me there streams a flower-like rain of resounding gleams and 
 gleaming sounds, and all my senses lose themselves in a rush of 
 Beauty — and I hear only a sweet and fluty voice singing: '/ 
 am the Princess Use,'" etc. 
 
From "The Harz Journey" 169 
 
 And I shall kiss and hold thee 
 
 As I would kiss and hold 
 My lover, dear King Heinrich, 
 
 Who now lies dead and cold. 
 
 The dead stay dead forever, 
 
 Only the living live ; 
 My laughing heart is leaping, 
 
 I've youth and joy to give. 
 
 Then come down to my castle, 
 ' Come to my crystal halls; 
 The knights and maidens are dancing, 
 Happy are all my thralls. 
 
 There's rustling of silk and clatter 
 Of spurs, and the bright air hums. 
 
 The nimble dwarfs are playing 
 On fiddles and horns and drums. 
 
 But always my arms shall enfold thee 
 And I shall keep thee enthralled ; 
 
 As I stopped the ears of King Heinrich 
 When the brazen trumpets called. 
 
THE NORTH SEA 
 (1825-1826); 
 
FIRST CYCLE 
 
 CORONATION 
 
 Ihr Lieder! Ihr meine guten Lieder! 
 
 Ye songs ! Ye valiant songs of mine 
 
 Up, up, and arm yourselves ! 
 
 Let all the trumpets echo, 
 
 And lift this blossoming girl 
 
 Upon my shield. 
 
 For now my restless heart 
 
 Longs for her rule, claims her its queen. 
 
 Hail to thee, hail — oh youthful Queen! 
 
 From the fierce sun at noon 
 
 I'll tear the red and gleaming gold, 
 
 And it shall be a diadem 
 
 For thy beloved head. 
 
 From the great, waving, blue silk tent of 
 
 heaven, 
 Where all the diamonds of the night are 
 
 flashing, 
 I'll cut a mighty piece; 
 And hang it, like a royal mantle, 
 About thy royal shoulders. 
 I'll give thee a kingly dower 
 Of starched and polished sonnets, 
 Haughty tercets, proud and courtly stanzas. 
 For Pages I shall give thee my wit; 
 173 
 
174 Book of Songs 
 
 For Court- fool, my wild imagination ; 
 For Herald, with laughing tears in his 
 
 escutcheon, 
 My Humors shall serve thee . . . 
 But I myself, dear Queen, 
 I humbly kneel before thee, 
 And present to thee, from the velvet cushion, 
 With deepest homage, 
 The little reason 
 
 That mercifully has been left me 
 By thy predecessor in the realm. 
 
 TWILIGHT 
 
 Am blassen Meeresstrande 
 
 On the pale strip of seashore 
 
 I sat alone, lost among fugitive thoughts. 
 
 The sun was sinking lower and threw 
 
 Glowing, red beams upon the water. 
 
 And the white, widening line of waves, 
 
 Pulled by the urging tide, 
 
 Rolled in and rumbled nearer and nearer — 
 
 A curious mingling of wailing and whistling, 
 
 Of laughing and murmuring, sighing and 
 
 shouting ; 
 And, under it all, the strange croon of the 
 
 ocean. 
 It was as though I heard forgotten stories, 
 Ancient and lovely legends, 
 That once I had heard as a child 
 From our neighbor's children, 
 When we, in the summer evening, 
 
The North Sea 175 
 
 On the stone-steps before the door, 
 
 Huddled together and listened 
 
 With eager hearts, 
 
 And sharp, inquisitive eyes . . . 
 
 While the growing girls 
 
 Sat at the opposite windows ; 
 
 Their heads showing above the fragrant 
 
 flower-pots, 
 Faces like roses ; 
 Laughing and moon-illumined. 
 
 NIGHT ON THE STRAND 
 
 Sternlos und halt ist die Nacht 
 
 The night is starless and cold, 
 The ocean yawns. 
 
 And, flat on his belly, the monstrous North-wind 
 Sprawls upon the sea. 
 Wheezing and groaning, 
 He babbles his hoarse confidences, 
 Like a crotchety grumbler who has grown good- 
 humored ; 
 Babbles to the listening waters. 
 Wild tales he tells them, 
 Tales of giants, tales of furious slaughter, 
 And old-world stories out of Norway. 
 And, between times, he laughs and bellows out 
 Incantations from the Eddas, 
 And oaths and runes 
 So potent and so darkly magical 
 That the white sea-children 
 Leap up turbulently, 
 In waves of exultation. 
 
176 Book of Songs 
 
 Meanwhile, on the flat shore, 
 
 Over the surf-dampened sands, 
 
 A stranger walks 
 
 With a heart that is wilder than winds or 
 
 waters. 
 Wherever he tramps 
 
 Sparks fly and sea-shells crunch and crumble. 
 He wraps himself in his gray, gloomy mantle 
 And strides on quickly through the wirtdy 
 
 night — 
 Led safely by the little taper 
 That beckons and shimmers with promise 
 From the lonely fisherman's cottage. 
 
 Father and brother are out at sea, 
 
 And alone, 
 
 All alone in the cottage, she sits, 
 
 The fisher's lovely daughter. 
 
 She sits at the hearth 
 
 And listens to the kettle 
 
 Singing its droning, drowsy song. 
 
 And she shakes fuel and heaps sticks on the fire 
 
 And blows on it, 
 
 So that the flickering red light 
 
 Lights up, with a lovely magic, 
 
 That blossoming face, 
 
 Those soft white shoulders 
 
 That stand out strangely from the coarse, gray 
 
 shirt ; 
 Shines on those small and careful hands 
 That are binding the little petticoat 
 Tighter about her waist. 
 
The North Sea 177 
 
 Suddenly the door springs open 
 And the nocturnal stranger enters. 
 Confident with love, his eyes are fixed 
 On that white, slender girl, 
 Who trembles before him, 
 Like a frail and frightened lily. 
 And he drops his mantle on the ground 
 And smiles and says: 
 
 " Behold, my child, I keep my word; 
 
 I come — and with me come 
 
 The ancient times, when all the gods 
 
 Came down from heaven to the daughters of 
 
 men, 
 And embraced them 
 And begat with them 
 Sceptre-bearing races of kings, 
 And heroes, shakers of the world . . . 
 But, child, do not stand astonished any longer, 
 Amazed at my divinity; 
 But get me, I beg of you, some tea with rum, 
 For it's cold outside. 
 And on such raw nights 
 We shiver, — even we, who are immortal ; 
 And, being gods, we catch ungodly sneezings, 
 With colds and coughing that are almost death- 
 less." 
 
178 Book of Songs 
 
 POSEIDON 
 
 Die Sonnenlichter spielten 
 
 The sun's gay lights were playing 
 
 Over the wide and rolling sea. 
 
 Far off, and anchored, I saw the ship 
 
 That was to take me home ; 
 
 But the right wind was lacking 
 
 And I was still sitting on a white sand-dune 
 
 Upon the beach. 
 
 And I read the song of Odysseus, 
 
 That old and ever-youthful song 
 
 From whose leaves, with the breath of the 
 
 ocean rushing through them, 
 Rises joyfully, 
 The breath of the gods, 
 And the radiant Springtime of man, 
 And the blue, smiling heaven of Hellas. 
 
 My noble heart was loyal, and accompanied 
 The son of Laertes through terror and travail ; 
 Sat down with him, suffered and wept with him 
 At friendly hearths 
 Where queens regaled him, spinning purple 
 
 cloths. 
 It helped him with his lies, and aided his escape 
 From giants' caverns and the arms of sirens. 
 It followed him down the Cimmerian night, 
 Through storm and shipwreck — 
 It stood with him through struggles past all 
 
 telling. 
 
The North Sea 179 
 
 And then I sighed, " Oh harsh Poseidon, 
 Thy anger is fearful; 
 And I myself am afraid 
 Of my own home-coming." 
 
 Scarcely had I spoken, 
 
 When the sea was churned into foam 
 
 And out of the whitening waters rose 
 
 The head of the sea-god, 
 
 Sea-weed crowned, 
 
 And scornfully he called : 
 
 " Have no fear, little poet ! 
 
 I haven't the least intention to harm 
 
 Your poor little boat, 
 
 Nor frighten your precious little soul 
 
 With a lusty, long-to-be-remembered rocking. 
 
 For you, bardlet, have never vexed me. 
 
 You have never, that I know of, shaken the 
 
 smallest turret 
 Of Priam's holy city. 
 Nor have you singed a single hair 
 From the eyelash of my son, Polyphemus; 
 And, surely, never have you been befriended or 
 
 counseled 
 By Pallas Athene, the goddess of Wisdom ! " 
 
 Thus cried Poseidon 
 
 And dived back in the sea. 
 
 And at the coarse old sailor's joke 
 
 I heard Amphitrite, the fat old fish-wife, 
 
 And the stupid daughters of Nereus, 
 
 Laughing under the waters. 
 
180 Book of Songs 
 
 DECLARATION 
 Herangedammert ham der Abend 
 
 The evening came, dusk-enshrouded, 
 
 The tide tossed in wildly; 
 
 And I sat on the beach, watching 
 
 The white dance of the breakers. 
 
 My bosom heaved like the sea, 
 
 And yearning seized me — a keen home-sickness 
 
 For you, and your fair image 
 
 That rises over all things, 
 
 And calls me forever, 
 
 Over all and forever, 
 
 In the howling of the winds, in the roaring of 
 
 the sea 
 And in the sighing clamor of my own heart. 
 
 With a light reed I wrote upon the sand 
 " Agnes, I love you ! " 
 
 But heartless waves crept up and poured them- 
 selves 
 Over that sweet confession, 
 And blotted it out. 
 
 Frail reed, shifting and treacherous sand, 
 
 Unstable waters, I'll trust you no more ! 
 
 The heaven grows darker, my heart grows 
 
 wilder ; 
 And with strong hands, from Norway's mighty 
 
 forests 
 I'll tear the highest pine; 
 And dip it deep 
 In ^Etna's glowing crater. 
 And with such a pen, 
 Fiery and gigantic, 
 
 I'll write upon the darkening dome of heaven 
 " Agnes, I love you ! " 
 
From 
 
 The North Sea 181 
 
 Thus every night that flaming line shall burn 
 And blaze down from the furthest skies ; 
 And all the vast generations of men 
 Shall read and thrill with the rapturous words : 
 Agnes, I love you! " 
 
 A NIGHT IN THE CABIN 
 
 Das Meer hat seine Perlen 
 
 The sea has its pearls, 
 The heaven its stars, — 
 But my heart, my heart, 
 My heart has its love. 
 
 The sea and the heaven are great, 
 But my heart is greater still; 
 And fairer than pearls or stars 
 Glistens and sparkles my love. 
 
 Oh young and lovely maiden 
 Come to my fathomless heart ; 
 My soul and the sea and the heavens 
 Are wasting away with love. 
 
 STORM 
 
 Es wiitet der Sturm 
 
 The storm rages now 
 
 And whips the waves, 
 
 And the waters, boiling and furious, 
 
 Tower into a moving waste 
 
 Of white and flowing mountains. 
 
 And the ship climbs them 
 
 Sharply, painfully; 
 
 And suddenly plunges down, 
 
 Into a black and yawning chasm of flood. 
 
1 82 Book of Songs 
 
 O Sea! 
 
 Mother of Venus, born of your quickening 
 
 foam, 
 Grandmother of Love ! Help me ! 
 Already, light of wing, and smelling for 
 
 corpses, 
 The white and ghostly sea-mew hovers 
 And whets its bill on the mast-head, 
 And lusts to feed on my heart 
 Which rings with the praise of thy daughter; 
 The heart that thy grandson, the little scamp, 
 Has taken for plaything. 
 
 Fruitless my prayers and entreaties ! 
 
 My cry dies in the rushing storm, 
 
 In the alarum of the wind. 
 
 It roars and rattles and whistles and wails — 
 
 A madhouse of sounds ! 
 
 And between times I can hear, 
 
 Far off but distinctly, 
 
 Magical harp-tones, 
 
 Passionate singing, 
 
 Soul-melting and soul-tearing — 
 
 And I know the voice . . . 
 
 Far on the rocky coast of Scotland 
 
 Where an old, gray castle 
 
 Juts into the boiling sea ; 
 
 There, at a high-arched window, 
 
 A woman stands, lovely and sick at heart, 
 
 Delicate-featured and marble-pale. 
 
 And she plays on the harp and sings ; 
 
 And the storm tosses her long hair, 
 
 And carries her dark song 
 
 Over the wide and darkening sea. 
 
The North Sea 183 
 
 CALM AT SEA 
 
 Meeresstillel Ihre Strahlen 
 
 Calm at sea ! The sun is throwing 
 Great long beams upon the water, 
 And the ship ploughs through the furrows, 
 Through a sea of tossing jewels. 
 
 And the bosun on his belly 
 
 Softly snores beside the tiller ; 
 
 While a shrinking, tar-smeared ship's boy 
 
 Patches sail beside the foremast. 
 
 Underneath the dirt, his cheeks are 
 Reddening slowly; fear or sorrow 
 Makes his broad mouth twitch and tremble 
 And his large, deep eyes are troubled. 
 
 For the Captain stands before him, 
 Storms and swears and scolds him : " Rascal ! 
 Rascal ! You've been at the barrel. 
 Rascal ! You have stolen a herring ! " 
 
 Calm at sea ! . . . Above the rollers 
 Lo r a little fish leaps gaily ; 
 Warms his little head with sunlight, 
 Flaps his little tail with ardor. 
 
 But a sea-gull, from high spaces, 
 Shoots down on the giddy spratling; 
 And, her prey held in her talons, 
 Back into the blue she circles, 
 
1 84 Book of Songs 
 
 PEACE 
 
 Hoch am Himmel stand die Sonne 
 
 The sun stood high in the heavens 
 
 Swathed in white clouds ; 
 
 The sea was still. 
 
 I lay in the helm of the vessel, 
 
 Dreamily musing . . . When, half awake 
 
 And half asleep, I saw the Christ, 
 
 The Saviour of the world. 
 
 In a white, waving garment 
 
 He walked, tall as a giant, 
 
 Over land and sea. 
 
 His head rose into the heavens, 
 
 His hands were stretched in blessing 
 
 Over land and sea; 
 
 And, like a heart in his breast, 
 
 He carried the sun, 
 
 The great, red, burning sun. 
 
 And that flaming heart, that fiery splendor, 
 
 Poured all its hallowed sunbeams, 
 
 And all its tender, compassionate light, 
 
 Wide-spread and warming, 
 
 Over land and sea. 
 
 Clear and happy bells were ringing, 
 Drawing on the gliding vessel; 
 Drew, like swans with ropes of roses, 
 Lightly to a fair, green harbor 
 Where men lived in a lofty, towering 
 Sky-scraping city. 
 
The North Sea 185 
 
 Wonder of peace ! How quiet the town ! 
 
 The cries and the clamor were hushed ; 
 
 The clatter of trade was over. 
 
 And, through the clean-swept, echoing streets, 
 
 Men in white raiment wandered 
 
 Carrying palm-branches. 
 
 And where two met in that city, 
 
 They gazed at each other with understanding, 
 
 And, thrilling with love and a sweet abnegation, 
 
 Kissed each other on the brow. 
 
 And both looked up 
 
 At the glowing heart of the Saviour 
 
 That joyfully sacrificed its red blood 
 
 In streams of ruddy light. 
 
 And they, thrice-blest, would cry, 
 
 " Praise be to Jesus Christ! " 
 
 If such a conception would have been granted you, 
 What would you have given, 
 Dearly beloved brother ! 
 You who are so weak in the head and the loins 
 And so strong in the faith! 
 You who worship the Trinity so religiously 
 And kiss the cross and the pup and the paw 
 Of your noble protectress daily. 
 You who talked yourself into the council 
 And a place on the bench 
 And, at last, to a part in the governing 
 Of that virtuous city, 
 Where dust and Faith arise, 
 And the long-suffering Spree, with its holy waters, 
 Washes the souls and dilutes the tea of the faith- 
 ful- 
 Had you but conceived this vision, 
 
i 86 Book of Songs 
 
 Dearly beloved, 
 
 You would have taken it to market 
 And offered it in high places. 
 Your white, simpering features 
 Would melt with devotion ; 
 And the high and mighty lady, 
 Enraptured and trembling with bliss, 
 Would sink, praying, on her knees beside you. 
 And her eyes, beaming with happiness, 
 Would promise you an increase of salary 
 Of a hundred sterling Prussian dollars. 
 And you would fold your hands and stammer, 
 " Praise be to Jesus Christ! " 
 
SECOND CYCLE 
 
 SEA GREETING 
 
 Thalatta! Thalattal 
 
 Thalatta! Thalatta! 
 Hail to thee, oh Sea, ageless and eternal ! 
 Hail to thee, from a jubilant heart — 
 Ten thousand times hail ! 
 Hail, as you were hailed by 
 Ten thousand Grecian hearts ; 
 Calamity-conquering, homeward-hungering, 
 Immortal Grecian hearts. 
 
 The billows rolled higher, 
 
 Heaving and howling; 
 
 The sun poured eagerly downward 
 
 A rain of rosy lights; 
 
 The startled sea-gulls 
 
 Flew off with loud cries ; 
 
 And there were sounds of horses stamping, 
 
 And the clashing of shields, 
 
 And echoes ringing, like a battle-shout: 
 
 "Thalatta! Thalatta!" 
 
 Hail to thee, Sea, ageless and eternal ! 
 
 The whisper of your waters is as the speech 
 
 of my own land; 
 The shimmer and surge of your billowy wastes 
 Is as the dreams of my childhood; 
 187 
 
1 88 Book of Songs 
 
 And old memory reveals in new colors 
 All of those lovely, wonderful playthings, 
 All of those glittering Christmas presents, 
 All of those rosy branches of coral, 
 Goldfish and pearls and shining sea-shells, — 
 All that you cherish and guard 
 Down in your clear and crystal depths. 
 
 Oh, how I have suffered in strange places ! 
 
 My heart lay in my breast 
 
 Like a fading flower 
 
 In the tin box of a botanist. 
 
 It seems as though I had sat through the whole 
 
 Winter, 
 A sick man in a dismal room, — 
 And now I leave it ! 
 And suddenly there streams upon me 
 The emerald Spring, the sun-awakened ; 
 And white branches rustle 
 And the young flowers look at me 
 With bright and odorous eyes, 
 And there's perfume and humming and 
 
 laughter in all that breathes, 
 And in the blue heavens the very birds are 
 
 singing : 
 "Thalatta! Thalatta!" 
 
 Oh dauntless, home-returning heart, 
 
 How often, oh how often, 
 
 The barbarian girls of the North have 
 
 assailed you ! 
 How often have they shot burning arrows 
 With their great, conquering eyes ; 
 How often have they threatened to cleave the 
 
 breast 
 
The North Sea 189 
 
 With curved, two-edged words, sharper than 
 
 swords ; 
 How often their chiseled, hieroglyphic letters 
 Have beaten on my poor, bewildered brain. 
 I raised my shield against them vainly. 
 The arrows whistled, the blows came crashing, 
 And the barbarian girls of the North 
 Drove me to the sea — 
 And now, with a great breath, I greet it, 
 The long-loved, rescuing sea, 
 " Thalatta! Thalatta! " 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 Die schone Sonne 
 
 The splendid sun 
 
 Has slipped quietly into the sea; 
 
 The waving waters are already clouded 
 
 With the shadows of night ; 
 
 Only the afterglow 
 
 Stretches a web of gold and rosy lights over 
 
 them. 
 The restless tide 
 
 Urges the billows toward the shore, 
 And the white waves leap and gambol 
 Like a flock of woolly lambkins 
 At evening, when a singing herd-boy 
 Drives them home. 
 
190 Book of Songs 
 
 " How splendid is the Sun ! " 
 
 Thus, after a long silence, spoke my friend 
 
 Who had been walking with me on the beach. 
 
 And, half in fun and half in earnest, 
 
 He assured me that the sun was a lovely 
 woman 
 
 Who had married the old sea-god for con- 
 venience. 
 
 All day long she wanders happily 
 
 Through the high heavens, robed in red and 
 purple, 
 
 Blazing with diamonds; 
 
 Beloved and worshiped 
 
 By every creature in the world ; 
 
 And all creation is made happy 
 
 With the light and warmth of her glance. 
 
 But at evening she is forced ruthlessly 
 
 To turn back again 
 
 To the damp house and the sterile embraces 
 
 Of her senile spouse. 
 
 " Believe me," my friend continued, 
 And laughed and sighed and laughed again, 
 " They live in a sweet wedlock there below ! 
 Either they sleep or else they quarrel 
 Till the sea above them towers and storms, 
 And the sailor hears, in the roar of the 
 
 billows, 
 How the old one scolds at his wife : 
 ' Whore of the heavens ! 
 Radiant harlot! 
 
 All day long you glow for others, 
 And at night, for me, you are tired and 
 
 frosty ! ' 
 
The North Sea 191 
 
 After such curtain-lectures 
 It's no wonder that the proud sun 
 Breaks into tears and bewails her lot, 
 And weeps so long and bitterly, that the sea- 
 god 
 Springs from his bed in sheer desperation 
 And swims swiftly up to the surface of the 
 
 sea 
 To recover his wind and his wits. 
 
 So it was I saw him, a few nights ago, 
 Looming up, breast-high, above the waves. 
 He wore a yellow flannel jacket, 
 And a lily-white nightcap, 
 And a lined and withered face." 
 
 THE GODS OF GREECE 
 
 Vollbliihender Mondl In deinem Licht 
 
 Great blossoming moon ! Your yellow light 
 Turns all of the sea to liquid gold ; 
 Into the distance the long beach stretches 
 As clear as day with the glamor of evening. 
 And through the starless, pale-blue heavens, 
 Massive, white clouds are moving; 
 Like colossal statues of the gods, 
 Of glistening marble. 
 
 No! Those white images never are clouds! 
 
 They are the very gods of old Hellas, 
 
 Who ruled the ancient world so gladly, 
 
 Who now, dead and supplanted, 
 
 Drift, like great ghosts, in a spectral procession 
 
 Through the hushed heavens at midnight. 
 
192 Book of Songs 
 
 Awed and enraptured I wondered and looked on 
 
 This air-molded Pantheon, 
 
 These solemn, majestic and fearfully-moving 
 
 Towering figures . . . 
 
 That one is Kronion, king of the heaven, 
 
 Snow-white are the locks on his head, 
 
 Those time-renowned locks that could shake all 
 
 Olympus ; 
 He holds in his hands dead, powerless bolts, 
 And his lined face is feeble with care, 
 Yet firm with a touch of the ancient pride. 
 Those times were better and nobler, oh Zeus, 
 When you took a lordly delight in 
 The nymphs, and the youths, and the sweet, smok- 
 ing altar. 
 But even the gods cannot rule on forever; 
 The young ones will drive out their elders, 
 As you yourself drove out your hoary father, 
 Supplanting your uncles, the Titans, 
 Jupiter Parricidal 
 And I see you too, haughty Juno ! 
 In spite of all your jealous fears, 
 The sceptre is wielded today by another, 
 And you are no longer the Queen of heaven; 
 And your large eyes are watery and dull, 
 And your white arms have lost their power, 
 And never can your vengeance trouble 
 The mild, God-bearing Virgin 
 And the miracle-working Son of God. 
 You too, I see there, Pallas Athene ! 
 Could not your shield and wisdom ward 
 Disaster from the deities ? 
 And you are there, you too, Aphrodite, 
 Once the golden girl, now the silvered one ! 
 
The North Sea 193 
 
 Truly, the girdle of love scarce adorns you, 
 
 Yet I am still strangely awed by your beauty; 
 
 And if you would give yourself and bless me 
 
 Like other great heroes, I'd perish of fear — 
 
 A corpse-like goddess you seem to me, 
 
 Venus Libitina! 
 
 No longer the terrible Ares 
 
 Looks at you with the eyes of love. 
 
 And how the youthful Phoebus Apollo 
 
 Is saddened ! His lyre is mute 
 
 That joyfully sweetened the feasts of the gods. 
 
 Hephaestus is even sadder, 
 
 And truly the limping one never again 
 
 Shall take Hebe's place 
 
 Or busily serve the great assembly 
 
 With heavenly nectar. — Time has extinguished 
 
 The inextinguishable laughter of the gods. 
 
 Ye gods of Greece I have never loved you! 
 
 For hateful to me are all the Greeks, 
 
 And even the Romans are odious. 
 
 Yet holy compassion and tremulous pity 
 
 Flow through my heart 
 
 When I see you there above me, 
 
 Forgotten divinities, 
 
 Dead and night-wandering shadows; 
 
 Weak as the mist, torn by the wind. — 
 
 And when I think how vapid and spineless 
 
 The new gods are who have conquered you, 
 
 These new, sad gods, who now are the rulers, 
 
 Who take joy at our pain in their sheep's cloak 
 
 of meekness — 
 Oh, then I am seized with a rancorous hate 
 And I would break down their newly-built temples 
 
194 Book of Songs 
 
 And fight for you, ye ancient rulers, 
 
 For you and your sweet, ambrosial right; 
 
 And before your highest altars, 
 
 Built up again, and smoking with sacrifice, 
 
 I humbly would kneel and invoke you, 
 
 Raising my arms in a prayer. — 
 
 For, even though, ye ancient deities, 
 When you joined in the furious combats of 
 
 mortals, 
 You always fought on the side of the victor; 
 Now you will see that man is greater than you. 
 For I stand here in the combat of gods 
 And fight on for you, the vanquished. 
 
 Thus I spoke, and high above me 
 
 I saw those cloudy figures blushing, 
 
 Gazing on me as though dying; 
 
 Transfigured by sorrow — and then they vanished. 
 
 The moon was suddenly hidden 
 
 Under the clouds that rolled on darkly. 
 
 The sea came up with a rush ; 
 
 And into the heavens, calm and victorious, 
 
 Walked the eternal stars. 
 
 QUESTIONS 
 
 'Am Meer, am wusten, nachtlichen 'Meer 
 
 By the sea, by the dreary, night-colored sea, 
 
 A young man stands ; 
 
 His heart full of anguish, his head full of 
 
 doubts, 
 And with pale lips he questions the billows :; 
 
The North Sea 195 
 
 " Oh solve me the riddle of Life, 
 
 The torturing, deathless riddle 
 
 Which has cracked so many heads, 
 
 Heads in hieroglyphic bonnets, 
 
 Heads in black birettas and turbans, 
 
 Heads in weighty wigs and a thousand other 
 
 Poor, perspiring heads of people — 
 
 Tell me, what is Man? And what's his meaning? 
 
 Where does he come from ? Where is he going? 
 
 Who dwells up there among the golden stars ? " 
 
 The billows are whispering their eternal whispers. 
 The wind blows on, the clouds go sailing ; 
 The stars keep twinkling, indifferent and cold. 
 And a fool waits for his answer. 
 
 THE PHOENIX 
 
 Es kommt ein Vogel geflogen aus Westen 
 
 A bird comes flying out of the West. 
 It flies eastward 
 Toward its orient garden-home, 
 Where strange spices blossom and breathe, 
 And palm-trees rustle and springs are cooling. 
 And the glad bird sings as he flies : 
 " She loves him ! She loves him ! 
 She carries his picture in her small heart, 
 And carries it sweetly and shyly hidden, 
 And scarcely knows it, herself! 
 But in her dreams he stands before her, 
 She pleads and cries and kisses his hands, 
 And calls him by name, 
 And, calling, she wakes and lies half- 
 frightened, 
 
196 Book of Songs 
 
 And rubs her eyes with a trembling wonder — : 
 She loves him ! She loves him ! " 
 
 I leaned on the mast on the upper deck; 
 And stood and listened to the bird's song. 
 The white-curling billows leaped up and 
 
 sprang 
 Like dusky green horses with silvery manes. 
 With shimmering sails, the Heligolanders, 
 Those daring nomads of the sea, 
 Went by, like lines of soaring swans. 
 Over me, in the eternal blue, 
 White clouds were floating 
 And the eternal sun, 
 
 The Rose of the heavens, the fire-blossoming, 
 Laughed at its splendor mirrored in the sea;— 
 And sky and sea and my own wild heart 
 Rang with the echo : 
 " She loves him ! She loves him ! " 
 
 SEA-SICKNESS 
 
 Die grauen Nachmittagswolken 
 
 The gray clouds of late afternoon 
 Sag and hang heavily over the sea 
 Which heaves darkly against them; 
 And the ship drives on between them. 
 
 Sea-sick, I keep on sitting by the mainmast, 
 And give myself up to a host of reflections ; 
 Reflections that are ash-gray and very old, 
 That were already made by Father Lot 
 
The North Sea 197 
 
 After he had been enjoying good things too freely, 
 
 And found himself in a bad way. 
 
 With this I think of other old stories: 
 
 How the cross-bearing pilgrims, in the days of their 
 
 stormy sea-journeys, 
 Would be soothed by kissing the picture 
 Of the blessed Virgin. 
 How sea-sick knights, in similar distress, 
 Would press the precious glove of their adored 
 Against their lips — and straightway would be 
 
 cured . 
 But here I sit, and keep on chewing 
 An old dried herring, that salty consoler 
 When one's sick as a cat or down as a dog. 
 
 All this time the ship is battling 
 
 With the wild, tossing tide. 
 
 Like a rearing war-horse, she poises herself 
 
 On her trembling stern, till the rudder cracks. 
 
 Then down she plunges, headlong 
 
 Into the howling watery chasm once more. 
 
 Then again, like one reckless and weak with love, 
 
 She seems about to rest herself 
 
 On the black bosom of a giant wave, 
 
 That, with a huge roaring, comes toward her. 
 
 And suddenly, a furious sea-cataract, 
 
 Seething and foaming, rushes upon us, 
 
 And souses me with foam. 
 
 This tumbling and tossing and rocking 
 
 Is beyond bearing ! 
 
 In vain my eyes strain to seek 
 
 The German coast. Alas ! only water — 
 
 Nothing but water; endless, treacherous water. 
 
198 Book of Songs 
 
 As the winter-wanderer longs at evening 
 
 For a warm and comforting cup of tea, 
 
 So my heart longs for thee, 
 
 My German fatherland ! 
 
 Though forever thy sweet soil is encumbered 
 
 With madness, hussars and poor verses, 
 
 And thin and tepid pamphlets ! 
 
 Though forever thy donkeys 
 
 Feed upon roses, instead of on thistles! 
 
 Though forever thy high-born monkeys 
 
 Prink and preen themselves in idle splendor, 
 
 And think themselves better than all the other 
 
 Dull, heavy-footed, stupid and common cattle ! 
 
 Though thy feeble old snail-council 
 
 Think they vill live forever 
 
 Since they move forward so slowly; 
 
 Daily clearing their throats to argue 
 
 " Does not the cheese belong to the cheese-mites ? " 
 
 Or consuming long hours discussing 
 
 " Methods of improving Egyptian sheep " 
 
 So that the shepherd may shear them like others, 
 
 Without a difference — 
 
 Though forever folly and wrong and injustice 
 
 May cover thee, oh Germany, 
 
 Still am I yearning for thee now : 
 
 For thou, at least, art good, dry, solid land. 
 
The North Sea 199 
 
 EPILOG 
 
 'Wie auf dem Felde die W eizenhalmen 
 
 Like the ears of wheat in a wheat-field growing, 
 
 So a thousand thoughts spring and tremble 
 
 In the minds of men. 
 
 But the tender fancies of love 
 
 Are like the happy colors that leap among them ; 
 
 Red and blue flowers. 
 
 Red and blue flowers ! 
 
 The sullen reaper destroys you as worthless ; 
 
 Block-headed fools will scornfully thresh you ; 1 
 
 Even the penniless wayfarer 
 
 Who is charmed and cheered by your faces, 
 
 Shakes his poor head, 
 
 And calls you pretty weeds! 
 
 But the young girl from the village, 
 
 Twining her garland, 
 
 Honors and gathers you. 
 
 And with you she brightens her lovely tresses. 
 
 And thus adorned, she hurries to the dancing, 
 
 Where fiddles and flutes are sweetly sounding ; 
 
 Or runs to the sheltering beech-tree, 
 
 Where the voice of her lover sounds even sweeter 
 
 Than fiddles and flutes. 
 
 1 Holseme Flegel zerdreschen euch hohnend, 
 
 In this line Heine again makes use of a satiric and subtle play 
 on words ; " holserne " is " wooden," and " Flegel " can mean 
 either a " flail " or a " clown." 
 
NEW POEMS 
 
NEW SPRING 
 (1828-1831) 
 
NEW SPRING 
 
 i. 
 
 In dem Walde spriesst und grunt es 
 
 Now the wood blooms like a maiden 
 
 Running to a lover's meeting; 
 And the sun laughs down upon it: 
 
 " Welcome, Spring ! A fervent greeting ! : 
 
 Nightingale, I hear your flute-call 
 As it starts the woodland ringing. 
 
 What a poignant, long-drawn cadence ! . . . 
 "Love": — Tis all you know of singing! 
 
 2, 
 Leise zieht durch mein Gemiit 
 
 Lightly swinging bells are ringing 
 
 With a soft insistence; 
 Tinkle, tiny tunes of Spring, 
 
 Tinkle through the distance. 
 
 Fill the air and run to where 
 All the flowers grow sweeter. 
 
 If you see a Rosebud there 
 Tell her that I greet her ! 
 205 
 
206 New Poems 
 
 3- 
 Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt 
 
 The butterfly is in love with the rose 
 And flutters about her all day, 
 
 While he, in turn, is pursued by a bright 
 Sunbeam that follows his way. 
 
 But wait, — with whom is the rose in love ? 
 
 For whom does she tremble and pale ? 
 Is it the silent evening star ? 
 
 Or the singing nightingale ? 
 
 I do not know whom the red rose loves ; 
 
 But I love you all, for I 
 Sing nightingale, sunbeam, and evening star, 
 
 The rose and the butterfly ! 
 
 4- 
 Es erklingen alle B'dume 
 
 All the trees are full of music ; 
 
 Nests are singing, high and small. 
 In this green, orchestral concert, 
 
 Who's conductor of it all? 
 
 Can it be that old, gray plover 
 Who keeps nodding to the beat ? 
 
 Or that pedant who, up yonder, 
 
 Marks his " Cuckoo " strong and sweet ? 
 
New Spring 207 
 
 Or is it the stork, who gravely, 
 
 Keeps on tapping with his bill, 
 Just as though he were directing, 
 
 While the others soar and trill. 
 
 No ; my own heart holds the leader ; 
 
 Well he knows the stress thereof ! 
 And I feel the time he's beating, 
 
 And I think his name is Love. 
 
 5- 
 Im Anfang war die Nachtigall 
 
 " In the beginning was the Word, 
 
 Sung by the nightingale, ' Sweet! Sweet! ' 
 
 While grass and apple-blossoms stirred 
 And violets found their dancing feet. 
 
 " He bit his breast until the blood 
 Flowed freely, and from that bright stream 
 
 A tall and lovely rose-tree stood; 
 And there he sings his passionate dream. 
 
 "All of us birds now live in peace; 
 
 His blood redeemed all things that fly. 
 Yet if the rosy song should cease 
 
 The wood, and all it holds, would die." 
 
 So, to his brood, the sparrow speaks, 
 As though he had them all in church; 
 
 The mother-bird is proud and squeaks 
 Upon her high and lawful perch. 
 
208 New Poems 
 
 She's a good housewife, every day 
 She only lives to build and breed; 
 
 While he, to pass the time away, 
 Lectures his children in the creed. 
 
 6. 
 
 Es dr'angt die Not, es tauten die Glocken 
 
 I must go forth, the bells are pealing; 
 
 And oh ! I've lost my head completely ! 
 A pair of eyes, in league with Springtime, 
 
 Have been conspiring far too sweetly. 
 
 A pair of brilliant eyes and Springtime 
 Storm at my heart and have incensed me- 
 
 Even the nightingales and roses 
 I think are in a plot against me! 
 
 7- 
 Die blauen Friihlingsaugen 
 
 The deep, blue eyes of Springtime 
 Peer from the grass beneath; 
 
 They are the tender violets 
 That I will twine in a wreath. 
 
 I pick them and I ponder — 
 
 And all my hopes and aims, 
 All of my hidden fancies 
 
 The nightingale proclaims ! 
 
New Spring 209 
 
 Yes, all that I think, he echoes 
 In a loud and lyric mood ; 
 
 And now my deepest secret 
 Is known to all the wood. 
 
 8. 
 Die schlanke Wasserlilie 
 
 The slender water-lily 
 
 Stares at the heavens above, 
 
 And sees the moon who gazes 
 With the luminous eyes of love. 
 
 Blushing, she bends and lowers 
 Her head in a shamed retreat — 
 
 And there is the poor, pale lover, 
 Languishing at her feet ! 
 
 9- 
 'Mit deinen blauen Augen 
 
 Your eyes' blue depths are lifted, 
 With love and friendship stirred. 
 
 They smile; and, lost in dreaming, 
 I cannot speak a word. 
 
 Your eyes and their deep heavens 
 Possess me and will not depart — 
 
 A sea of blue thoughts rushing 
 And pouring over my heart. 
 
210 New Poems 
 
 10. 
 Die Rose duftet — dock ob sie empfindet 
 
 The rose is fragrant — but can she be feeling 
 All she breathes forth ? Can the nightingale 
 
 Feel half his own rapture, half the appealing 
 Poignance that wakes to his lyrical hail ? 
 
 I do not know. The truth may grieve us ; 
 
 And why should we be quick to see 
 That such deceptions may deceive us; 
 
 If these are lies — well, let them be. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Wie die Mondes Abbild zittert 
 
 As the moon's pale image trembles 
 In the sea's wild billows, even 
 
 While the moon herself in silence 
 Calmly walks across the heaven; 
 
 So you wander, my beloved 
 Calm and silent ; while there waken 
 
 Tears and tremblings, as your image 
 Shakes because my heart is shaken. 
 
 12. 
 Es haben unsre Herzen 
 
 Our hearts have made a holy 
 Alliance, firm and fast; 
 
 They understand each other, 
 And beat as one at last! 
 
New Spring 211 
 
 But ah, the poor young rosebud 
 
 That lent your bosom grace, 
 Our helpless, little confederate 
 
 Was crushed in our embrace. 
 
 13- 
 Kusse, die man stieh.lt im Dunkeln 
 
 Kisses that one steals in darkness, 
 And, in darkness, are returned, 
 
 Those are blessed kisses, kindling 
 Hearts afresh where love has burned. 
 
 Sad with thoughts and premonitions 
 Then the spirit loves to view 
 
 All the past it can remember, 
 Wandering in the future, too. 
 
 But to think too much is harmful, 
 Most of all, when lovers kiss; — 
 
 Weep, my soul, instead of thinking; 
 Weeping's easier than this ! 
 
 14. 
 Es war ein alter Konig 
 
 There was an aged monarch, 
 
 His heart and head were gray with 
 strife ; 
 
 This poor, old monarch wedded 
 A young and lovely wife. 
 
 '*<&S*, 
 
212 New Poems 
 
 There was a pretty page-boy, 
 His hair was light, his heart was 
 clean ; 
 
 He carried the long and silken 
 Train of the fair young queen. 
 
 You know the old, old story 
 So sweet, so sad to tell — 
 
 Both of them had to perish ; 
 They loved each other too well. 
 
 IS- 
 In meiner Erinnrung erbluhen 
 
 In memory many pictures 
 Arise and reassemble — 
 
 What gives your voice the magic 
 That makes me burn and tremble? 
 
 Oh, do not say you love me ! 
 
 All that may bloom most brightly, 
 Love and the fires of April, 
 
 You put to shame so lightly. 
 
 Oh, do not say you love me! 
 
 But kiss in quiet closes, 
 And laugh when, in the morning, 
 
 I show you withered roses. 
 
 16. 
 
 'Morgens send' ich dir die Veilchen 
 
 Every day I send you violets 
 
 Which I found in woods at dawn; 
 
 And at evening I bring roses 
 
 Which I plucked when day was gone. 
 
New Spring 213 
 
 Do you know what these two flowers 
 Say, if you can read them right ? 
 
 Through the day you shall be faithful 
 And shall love me through the night. 
 
 17- 
 Der Brief, den du geschrieben 
 
 Your letter does not move me 
 Although the words are strong; 
 
 You say you will not love me — 
 But ah, the letter's long . . . 
 
 Twelve pages, neat and double ! 
 
 A little essay ! Why, 
 One never takes such trouble 
 
 To write a mere good-bye. 
 
 18. 
 Sorge nie, dass ich verrate 
 
 Do not fear that I'll betray my 
 Love for you. The world ignores 
 
 What I say about your beauty 
 When I gush in metaphors. 
 
 Underneath a glade of flowers 
 
 In a hushed and hidden field, 
 Lies our warm and glowing secret, 
 
 Burning bright — but still concealed. 
 
 Though the rose may flame too boldly, 
 Never fear — they will not see! 
 
 For the world believes that fire 
 Only burns in "poetry." 
 
214 New Poems 
 
 19. 
 
 Sterne mit den goldnen Fiisschen 
 
 Stars with golden feet are walking 
 Through the skies with footsteps light, 
 
 Lest they wake the earth below them, 
 Sleeping in the lap of night. 
 
 All the silent forests listen; 
 
 Every leaf's a small, green ear; 
 And the dreaming mountain stretches 
 
 Shadowy arms that reach me here. 
 
 Hush, who called there ? . . . My heart trembles 
 
 As the dying echoes fail. 
 Was it my beloved, or was it 
 
 Just a lonely nightingale? 
 
 20. 
 Die holden Wunsche bliihen 
 
 The sweet desires blossom 
 
 And fade, and revive and spend 
 . Their beauty and wither, and blossom — 
 And so on, to the end. 
 
 I know this, and it saddens 
 My love and all its zest . . . 
 
 My heart's so wise and clever 
 It bleeds away in my breast. 
 
A MISCELLANY 
 (1832-1839) 
 
SERAPHINE 
 i. 
 
 An dem stillen 'Meeresstrande 
 
 Night has come with silent footsteps, 
 On the beaches by the ocean; 
 
 And the waves, with curious whispers, 
 Ask the moon, " Have you a notion 
 
 " Who that man is ? Is he foolish, 
 
 Or with love is he demented ? 
 For he seems so sad and cheerful, 
 
 So cast down yet so contented." 
 
 And the moon, with shining laughter, 
 Answers them, " If you must know it, 
 
 He is both in love and foolish ; 
 And, besides that, he's a poet ! " 
 
 2. 
 Dass du mich liebst, das wusst' ich 
 
 I was aware you loved me, 
 I knew it long, my dear ; 
 
 Yet, when at last you said it, 
 My heart was torn with fear. 
 217 
 
2i 8 New Poems 
 
 I climbed high up the mountain, 
 And sang a joyful air; 
 
 I walked the seashore weeping 
 To see the sunset there. 
 
 My heart's the sun; it blazes 
 High in the heavens above, 
 
 And sinks, immense and glowing, 
 In a burning sea of love. 
 
 3- 
 Auf diesen Felsen bauen wir 
 
 Upon these rocks we shall erect 
 A church, superb and splendid, 
 
 Built on the third New Testament . . . 
 The sufferings are ended. 
 
 Ended at last the difference 
 Between us, false and shoddy ; 
 
 Ended the stupid rage of flesh, 
 The torments of the body. 
 
 Listen how God in that dark sea 
 Speaks with a thousand voices, 
 
 How, in the thousand-lighted skies, 
 His loveliness rejoices. 
 
 God's beauty moves through light and dark, 
 Through bright and secret places ; 
 
 His spirit lives in all that is — 
 Even in our embraces, 
 
A Miscellany 219 
 
 4- 
 Schattenkiisse, Schattenliebe 
 
 Shadow-love and shadow-kisses, 
 Shadow-life — you think it strange! 
 
 Fool! Did you imagine this is 
 Fixed and constant; free from change? 
 
 Everything we love and cherish 
 Like a dream, goes hurrying past; 
 
 While the hearts forget and perish, 
 And the eyes are closed at last. 
 
 5- 
 Das Fraulein stand am Meere 
 
 Upon the shore, a maiden 
 
 Sighs with a troubled frown ; 
 She seems so sorrow-laden 
 
 To see the sun go down. 
 
 Don't let the old thing grieve you, 
 
 Look up and smile, my dear; 
 For, though in front he may leave you, 
 
 He'll rise again in the rear. 
 
 6. 
 
 Mit schwarzen Segeln segelt mein Schiff 
 
 With great, black sails my ship sails on, 
 
 On through a storming sea ; 
 You know how deathly sick I am, 
 
 And how you have tortured me. 
 
220 New Poems 
 
 But you are faithless as the wind 
 That rushes fast and free . . . 
 
 With great, black sails my ship sails on, 
 On through a storming sea. 
 
 7- 
 Wie schandlich du gehandelt 
 
 I've told no man how shameful 
 You were, and how malicious ; 
 
 But I have sailed away to the sea 
 And told it to the fishes. 
 
 Upon the land I've left your 
 
 Good name, so none may doubt you. 
 
 But through the length and depth of the 
 sea, 
 Everyone knows about you! 
 
 8. 
 Es Ziehen die brausenden Wellen 
 
 The waves draw in and stumble 
 
 Upon the strand ; 
 They crumble as they tumble 
 
 Over the sand. 
 
 With strength and an increasing 
 
 Power they roar ; 
 Their energy's unceasing — 
 
 What is it for? 
 
A Miscellany 221 
 
 9- 
 
 Es ragt ins Meer der Runenstein 
 
 The runic stone juts into the sea ; 
 
 I sit beside it, dreaming. 
 The sea-gulls cry, the waves run free, 
 
 The wind is whistling and screaming. 
 
 Many have been beloved by me, 
 Many I thought were unfailing. 
 
 Where are they now ? . . . The waves 
 run free; 
 The wind is whistling and wailing. 
 
 10. 
 Das Meer erstrahlt im Sonnenschein 
 
 The sea is sparkling in the sun, 
 
 Golden and glad to be. 
 My brothers, when I come to die, 
 
 Bury me in the sea. 
 
 For I have always loved it ; yes, 
 
 And it was kind to me ; 
 It cooled my heart, how often! 
 
 We were good friends, were we. 
 
222 New Poems 
 
 ANGELIQUE 
 
 i. 
 
 Wie rasch du auch voriiberschrittest 
 
 Although you hurried coldly past me, 
 Your eyes looked backward and askance; 
 
 Your lips were curiously parted, 
 
 Though stormy pride was in your glance. 
 
 Would I had never tried to hold you, 
 Nor seek your white and flowing train! 
 
 Would I had never found your footsteps, 
 Or seeking them, had sought in vain ! 
 
 Now, all your pride and wildness vanished, 
 You are as tame as one could be ; 
 
 Gentle, and sweet beyond endurance — 
 And, worse, you are in love with me! 
 
 2. 
 Wie entwickeln sich dock schnelle 
 
 How from such a chance beginning 
 And in what a casual fashion, 
 
 There has grown so close a union, 
 Such a great and tender passion. 
 
 Every day this charming creature 
 Holds me faster in her power, 
 
 And the feeling that I love her 
 Grows upon me hour by hour. 
 
A Miscellany 223 
 
 And her soul has beauty. Frankly, 
 
 That's a matter of opinion; 
 But I'm quite sure of the other 
 
 Charms she shows to me, her minion. 
 
 Those white lips and that white forehead ! 
 
 Nose that wrinkles on occasion, 
 When her lips curve into laughter — 
 
 And how swift is their persuasion! 
 
 3- 
 'Ach, wie schon bist du, wenn traulich 
 
 Ah, how sweet you are, confiding 
 All your thoughts in me, your lover, 
 
 When, with noble words and phrases, 
 Your impulsive mind runs over. 
 
 When you tell me that your thoughts are 
 Large and of a lofty fashion; 
 
 How your heart's pride, building greatly, 
 Is at war with your compassion. 
 
 How you'd never give yourself for 
 Millions — no, you could not bear it; 
 
 Ere you sold yourself for money 
 You would rather die, you swear it ! . . 
 
 And I look at you and listen, 
 And I listen till you've finished ; 
 
 Like a thoughtful, silent statue 
 Whose belief is undiminished. 
 
224 New Poems 
 
 4- 
 Ich halte ihr die Augen zu 
 
 I close her eyes, and keep them tight 
 Whene'er we come to kiss; 
 
 Her laughter, curious and bright, 
 Asks me the cause of this. 
 
 From early morn till late at night 
 She questions why it is 
 
 I close her eyes and keep them tight 
 Whene'er we come to kiss. 
 
 I do not even know — not quite, 
 What my own reason is — 
 
 I close her eyes, and keep them tight 
 Whene'er we come to kiss. 
 
 '5- 
 Wenn ich, beseligt von schonen Kiissen 
 
 When in your arms and in our kisses 
 I find Love's sweet and happiest season, 
 
 My Germany you must never mention — 
 I cannot bear it : there is a reason. 
 
 Oh, silence your chatter on anything German ; 
 
 You must not plague me or ask me to share it. 
 Be still when you think of my home or my 
 kindred — 
 
 There is a reason : I cannot bear it. 
 
A Miscellany 225 
 
 The oaks are green, and the German women 
 Have smiling eyes that know no treason ; 
 
 They speak of Love and Faith and Honor ! 
 I cannot bear it — there is a reason. 
 
 Fiirchte nichts, geliebte Seele 
 
 Do not fear, my love; no danger 
 Ever will approach us here; 
 
 Fear no thief or any stranger — 
 See, I lock the door, my dear. 
 
 Do not fear the wind that's quarreling, 
 For these walls are strong and stout ; 
 
 To prevent a fire, my darling, — 
 See, I blow the candle out. 
 
 Let my arms fold close and thickly 
 Here about your neck and all — 
 
 One can catch a cold so quickly 
 In the absence of a shawl. 
 
 7- 
 
 Schaff mich nicht ab, wenn auch den Durst 
 
 Don't send me off, now that your thirst 
 Is quenched, and all seems stale to you; 
 
 Keep me a short three months or more, 
 Then I'll be sated too. 
 
226 New Poems 
 
 If now you will not be my love 
 Then try to be my friend; 
 
 Friendship is something that may come 
 When Love comes to an end. 
 
 8. 
 Dieser Liebe toller Fasching 
 
 This mad carnival of loving, 
 This wild orgy of the flesh, 
 Ends at last and we two, sobered, 
 Look at one another, yawning. 
 
 Emptied the inflaming cup 
 That was filled with sensuous potions, 
 Foaming, almost running over — 
 Emptied is the flaming cup. 
 
 All the violins are silent 
 That impelled our feet to dancing, 
 To the giddy dance of passion — 
 Silent are the violins. 
 
 All the lanterns now are darkened 
 That once poured their streaming brilliance 
 On the masquerades and mummers — 
 Darkened now are all the lanterns. 
 
 And to-morrow is Ash Wednesday, 
 And I put a cross of ashes 
 On your lovely brow, and tell you : 
 " Woman, you are dust. Remember ! " 
 
A Miscellany 227 
 
 HORTENSE 
 
 1. 
 
 Wir standen an der Strasseneck 
 
 We stood upon the corner, where, 
 
 For upwards of an hour, 
 We spoke with soulful tenderness 
 
 Of love's transcending power. 
 
 Our fervors grew; a hundred times 
 Impassioned oaths we made there. 
 
 We stood upon the corner — and, 
 Alas, my love, we stayed there! 
 
 ,The goddess Opportunity, 
 
 A maid, alert and sprightly, 
 Came by, observed us standing there . . .■ 
 
 And passed on, laughing lightly. 
 
 In meinen Tagestraumen 
 
 In all my dreams by daylight 
 And nights that follow after, 
 
 My spirit throbs and rings with 
 Your long and lovely laughter. 
 
 Remember Montmorency? 
 
 The ass you dared not straddle? 
 And how, into the thistles, 
 
 You fell from that high saddle?, 
 
228 New Poems 
 
 The donkey stood there browsing 
 Upon the thorns thereafter — 
 
 Always will I remember 
 Your long and lovely laughter. 
 
 3- 
 Steht ein Baum im schonen Garten 
 
 She Speaks: 
 Deep within a lovely garden 
 
 There's an apple on a tree; 
 And, about the boughs, a serpent 
 
 Coils itself and looks at me. 
 I can't take my eyes from off it, 
 
 While I hear its gentle hiss, 
 While its eyes burn with a promise 
 
 And a prophecy of bliss. 
 
 The Other Speaks: 
 'Tis the fruit of life you see there, 
 
 Taste it, do not let it fall ; 
 Lest you throw away a lifetime 
 
 Without knowing life at all. 
 Come, my darling, my sweet pigeon, 
 
 Taste it, taste it, do not fear; 
 Follow my advice and thank me. 
 
 Trust your wise old aunt, my dear. 
 
 4- 
 Nicht lange tauschte mich das Gluck 
 
 The words you keep repeating 
 How vain and false they seem ; 
 
 As empty as the fleeting 
 Enchantments of a dream. 
 
A Miscellany 229 
 
 For Morning comes . . . How splendid, 
 
 After the mists, the Sun ! 
 And lo, so soon is ended 
 
 What scarcely had begun. 
 
 YOLANDA AND MARIE 
 
 1. 
 In welche soil ich mich verlieben 
 
 Which of them shall I fall in love with ? 
 
 Both of them make my senses swirl. 
 The mother's still a lovely woman ; 
 
 The daughter's an enchanting girl. 
 
 In those white arms and virgin beauties 
 My trembling heart is almost caught ! 
 
 But thrilling too are genial glances 
 That understand each casual thought. 
 
 My heart resembles our gray brother, 
 Who stands, a jackass self-confessed, 
 
 Between two bundles of his fodder, 
 Deciding which may taste the best. 
 
 2. 
 For der Brust die trikoloren 
 
 Flowers on your breast — I heed 'em ! 
 
 For the tricolor explains : 
 " This proud heart exults in freedom, 
 
 And it cannot live in chains." 
 
230 New Poems 
 
 Queen Marie, though I adore you, 
 Listen well, though you are crowned : 
 
 Many that have reigned before you 
 Have been shamefully dethroned ! 
 
 3- 
 
 Jugend, die mir taglich schwindet 
 
 Youth is leaving me ; but daily 
 By new courage it's replaced; 
 
 And my bold arm circles gaily 
 Many a young and slender waist. 
 
 Some were shocked and others pouted ; 
 
 Some grew wroth — but none denied. 
 Flattery has always routed 
 
 Lovely shame and stubborn pride. 
 
 Yet the best is gone. Too late, I'd 
 Give my soul for it, in truth. 
 
 Can it be the blundering, great-eyed, 
 Sweet stupidity of youth ? 
 
 EMMA 
 
 1. 
 
 'Er steht so starr wie ein Baumstamm 
 
 He stands as stark as a tree-trunk 
 In wind and frost and heat; 
 
 His arms reach up to the heavens, 
 Into the ground, his feet. 
 
A Miscellany 231 
 
 Thus suffers and stands Bagaritha, 
 
 But Brahma will end his woe ; 
 Down from the heights of heaven 
 
 He lets the Ganges flow. 
 
 But I, beloved, must suffer 
 
 Worse torments and in vain. . . . 
 
 Your eyes, that are my heaven, 
 Shed not a drop of rain. 
 
 2. 
 Emmaj sage mir die Wahrheit 
 
 Emma, tell me, tell me truly : 
 Was it Love that made me foolish? 
 Or is Love itself the simple 
 
 Consequence of all my folly? 
 
 Oh, I'm troubled, darling Emma, 
 Troubled by my foolish passion, 
 Troubled by my passionate folly — 
 
 Most of all, by this dilemma. 
 
 3- 
 Schon mit ihren schlimmsten Schatten 
 
 Now with shadows, dull and dreary, 
 
 Evil night is creeping on; 
 Now our souls are worn and weary, 
 
 Weary-eyed we sit and yawn. 
 
 You grow old and I grow older, 
 And our Spring has lost its grace. 
 
 You grow cold and I grow colder 
 As the Winter comes apace, 
 
23 2 , New Poems 
 
 Ah, the end is sad ; the tearless 
 Sighs when Love begins to pall. 
 
 So, when Life grows cold and cheerless 
 Let Death come and end it all. 
 
 CATHERINE 
 
 i. 
 
 Ein schoner Stern geht auf in meiner Nacht 
 
 A lovely star has risen in my night, 
 A star of smiling comfort and delight, 
 A golden promise to the eye — 
 O, do not lie ! 
 
 As the young moon draws up the swelling sea, 
 My soul is drawn to you, and wild and free 
 It bursts into a passionate cry — 
 "O, do not lie!" 
 
 2. 
 
 Da liegst mir so gem im Arme 
 
 You lie in my arms so gladly, 
 The cries of the world seem far. 
 
 I am your own dear Heaven, 
 You are my dearest star. 
 
 Below us the foolish people 
 Quibble and quarrel and fight; 
 
 They shriek and bellow and argue — 
 And all of them are right. 
 
A Miscellany 233 
 
 With jingling bells on their fool's caps, 
 They rise from their stupid beds; 
 
 Swinging their clubs in anger, 
 They crack each other's heads. 
 
 But we, we two are lucky 
 
 That they are all so far — 
 You bury within its heaven 
 
 Your head, my dearest star! 
 
 3- 
 Ich liebe solche weisse Glieder 
 
 I love this white and slender body, 
 
 These limbs that answer Love's caresses, 
 
 Passionate eyes, and forehead covered 
 With heavy waves of thick, black tresses. 
 
 You are the very one I've searched for 
 In many lands, in every weather. 
 
 You are my sort ; you understand me ; 
 As equals we can talk together. 
 
 In me you've found the man you care for. 
 
 And, for a while, you'll richly pay me 
 With kindness, kisses and endearments — 
 
 And then, as usual, you'll betray me. 
 
234 New Poems 
 
 KITTY 
 
 i. 
 Aug en, die ich langst verge ssen 
 
 Eyes that I had long forgotten 
 Snare me with their old romances ; 
 
 And once more I am held captive 
 By a maiden's tender glances. 
 
 Now her kisses bear me backward 
 To the time we lived so sweetly, 
 
 When the days were spent in folly 
 And the nights in love completely. 
 
 2. 
 Mir redet ein die Eitelkeit 
 
 Your love for me (so says my pride) 
 
 Is of a godlike fashion; 
 But deeper wisdom tells me that 
 
 It's only your compassion. 
 
 You give me more than is my due 
 When others underrate me ; 
 
 And you are doubly sweet and kind 
 Because they wound and hate me. 
 
 Sfou are so fond, you are so fair, 
 Your goodness overpowers ! 
 
 Your speech is music, and your words 
 More perfumed than the flowers 
 
A Miscellany ,235 
 
 You are a friendly star to me, 
 
 Shining with gentle gladness; 
 You make this earthly night less black, 
 
 And sweeten all my sadness. 
 
 3- 
 
 Es gldnzt so schon die sinkende Sonne 
 
 The sun is fair when it sinks in splendor, 
 Yet fairer still are your eyes that shine — 
 
 Your beaming eyes and this splendid sunset 
 Illumine and trouble this heart of mine. 
 
 For the sunset means an end and a parting ; 
 
 Night for the heart, and an endless woe. 
 And soon, between your eyes and my heart, love, 
 
 The wide and darkening sea shall flow. 
 
 4- 
 
 Er ist so herzbeweglich 
 
 Her letter leaves me breathless — 
 She says (at least she writes me) 
 Her love, that so delights me, 
 
 Is timeless, speechless, deathless. 
 
 She's bored and dull and sickly 
 
 And never will recover 
 
 Unless ..." You must come over 
 To England, yes — and quickly! " 
 
236 New Poems 
 
 5- 
 Es laujt dahin die Barke 
 
 Swift as a deer, my bark 
 
 Cuts through the waters, leaping 
 Over the Thames, and sweeping 
 
 Us on to Regent's Park. 
 
 There lives my darling Kitty, 
 Whose love is never shoddy; 
 Who has the whitest body 
 
 In West End or the City. 
 
 She smiles, expecting me there, 
 And fills the water-kettle, 
 And wheels the tiny settle 
 
 Forward — and we have tea there ! 
 
 6. 
 Das Gliick, das gestern mich gekilsst 
 
 The joy that kissed me yesterday 
 Has disappeared already; 
 
 Long years ago I found it so: 
 True love is never steady. 
 
 Oft curiosity has drawn 
 
 Some lovely ladies toward me ; 
 
 But when they looked deep in my heart 
 They left, and they abhorred me. 
 
A Miscellany 237 
 
 Some have grown pale before they went, 
 And some with laughter cleft me; 
 
 But only Kitty really cared — 
 She wept before she left me. 
 
 JENNY 
 Ich bin nun funfunddreissig 'Jahr alt 
 
 My years now number five and thirty 
 And you are scarce fifteen, you sigh . . ,.. 
 
 Yet Jenny, when I look upon you, 
 
 The old dream wakes that will not die. 
 
 In eighteen-seventeen a maiden 
 
 Became my sweetheart, fond and true ; 
 
 Strangely like yours her form and features, 
 She even wore her hair like you. 
 
 That year, before I left for college, 
 
 I said, " My own, it will not be 
 Long till I come back home ; — be faithful ! " 
 
 " You are my world," she answered me. 
 
 Three years I toiled, three years I studied, 
 And then — it was the first of May — 
 
 In Gottingen the tidings reached me: 
 My love had married and gone away. 
 
 It was the first of May! With laughter 
 The Spring came dancing through the world. 
 
 Birds sang; and in the quickening sunshine 
 Worms stretched themselves and buds uncurled. 
 
238 New Poems 
 
 And only I grew pale and sickly, 
 Dead to all beauties and delights; 
 
 And only God knows how I suffered 
 And tossed throughout those wretched nights. 
 
 But still I lived. And now my health is 
 Strong as an oak that seeks the sky. . . . 
 
 Yet, Jenny, when I look upon you, 
 The old dream wakes that will not die. 
 
 ABROAD 
 
 1. 
 
 O, des liebenswurd'gen Dichters 
 
 " Oh this dear, delightful poet 
 
 Whose great poems charm and cheer us ! 
 How we'd love to make him happy 
 
 If we only had him near us ! " 
 
 While these dear, delightful ladies 
 Promise me a sweet existence, 
 
 I am in a foreign country, 
 Pining safely at a distance. 
 
 What's the good to know, up North, it's 
 Fairer in the South than this is . . =.j 
 
 And a hungry heart can't feed on 
 Promissory, verbal kisses. 
 
A Miscellany 239 
 
 Du bist ja heut so grambefangen 
 
 To-day you are so plunged in sorrow, 
 I've never seen you more depressed. 
 
 Your tears have almost made a furrow ; 
 The sobs still shake within your breast. 
 
 Are all your cheerless thoughts still turning 
 To where your home once used to stand ? 
 
 Confess, how often you've been yearning 
 For your beloved Fatherland. 
 
 Do you still think of her who sweetly, 
 With little scoldings, bound you fast? 
 
 And how you raged, and how completely 
 You both made peace and kissed at last. 
 
 Do you still think of friends who sought you, 
 And cherished you through good and ill, 
 
 When storms of inner turmoil caught you, 
 Although your trembling lips were still? 
 
 And are you thinking of your mother 
 And sister, dear as no one else? . . . 
 
 Ah now, I think that memories smother 
 Your pride, and all your hardness melts. 
 
 And are you thinking of that fated 
 Old garden where you often groped 
 
 Among the boughs and dreams — and waited 
 And trembled anxiously — and hoped. . . . 
 
240 New Poems 
 
 The hour is late. The night is shining 
 With snow that gleams like splintered glass. 
 
 And I must cease this aimless pining, 
 And dress for company. Alas! 
 
 3- 
 Ich hatte einst ein schones Vaterland 
 
 I had, long since, a lovely Fatherland . . . 
 
 The oaks would gleam 
 And touch the skies; the violets would nod. 
 
 It was a dream. 
 
 You'd kiss me, and in German you would say 
 
 (Oh joy supreme — 
 How sweet the sound of it !) " Ich Hebe dich " . ,. 
 
 It was a dream. 
 
 TRAGEDY 
 i. 
 
 Entflieh mit mir und sei mein Welb 
 
 " Oh fly with me and be my love, 
 Rest on my heart, and never rouse; 
 And in strange lands my heart shall be 
 Thy fatherland and father's house. 
 
 " But if you stay, then I die here, 
 And you shall weep and wring your hands ; 
 And even in your father's house 
 You shall be living in strange lands." 
 
A Miscellany 241 
 
 2. 
 
 Es fiel ein Reif in der Friihlingsnacht 
 
 (A genuine folk-song; heard by Heine on the Rhine) 
 
 The hoar-frost fell on a night in Spring, 
 
 It fell on the young and tender blossoms . . w 
 
 And they have withered and perished. 
 
 A boy and a girl were once in love ; 
 They fled from the house into the world — 
 They told neither father nor mother. 
 
 They wandered here and they wandered there — 
 They had neither luck nor a star for guide . . . 
 And they have withered and perished. 
 
 3- 
 r Auf ihrem Grab da steht eine Linde 
 
 Upon their grave a tree stands now 
 With winds and birds in every bough ; 
 And in the green place under it 
 The miller's boy and his sweetheart sit. 
 
 The winds grow tender, soft and clinging, 
 And softly birds begin their singing. 
 The prattling sweethearts grow silent and sigh, 
 And fall to weeping — neither knows why. 
 
BALLADS 
 (1839-1842) 
 
A WOMAN 
 
 Sie hatten sick beide so herzlich lieb 
 
 They loved each other beyond belief — 
 She was a strumpet, he was a thief ; 
 Whenever she thought of his tricks, thereafter 
 She'd throw herself on the bed with laughter. 
 
 The day was spent with a reckless zest; 
 At night she lay upon his breast. 
 So when they took him, a while thereafter 
 She watched at the window — with laughter. 
 
 He sent word pleading, " Oh come to me, 
 I need you, need you bitterly, 
 Yes, here and in the hereafter." 
 Her little head shook with laughter. 
 
 At six in the morning they swung him high ; 
 At seven the turf on his grave was dry ; 
 At eight, however, she quaffed her 
 Red wine and sang with laughter! 
 
 SPRING FESTIVAL 
 
 Das ist des Fruhlings traurige Lust/ 
 
 It is the Springtime's wild unrest. 
 Blossoming maidens everywhere 
 Storm through the woods with streaming 
 hair; 
 Echoing, as they beat their breast, 
 " Adonis — Adonis ! " 
 
 245 
 
246 New Poems 
 
 As dusk grows thick, the torches flare 
 And frantic voices fill the night. 
 With wails, mad laughter, sudden fright, 
 
 They seek him, shouting everywhere : 
 "Adonis— Adonis!" 
 
 And he, that boy of beauty, lies 
 Upon the ground, so strangely dead ; 
 His blood stains all the flowers red, 
 
 And every wind, lamenting, cries : 
 " Adonis — Adonis ! " 
 
 THE ADJURATION 
 Der junge Franziskaner sitzt 
 
 The young Franciscan sits alone 
 
 Within his cloister-cell; 
 He reads a book of magic called 
 
 " The Mastery of Hell." 
 
 And as the midnight hour strikes, 
 
 He raves and calls upon 
 The powers of the Underworld, 
 
 And cries, distraught and wan : 
 
 " For this one night, you spirits, raise 
 From all the hosts that died 
 
 The fairest woman — give her life, 
 And place her at my side." 
 
 He breathes the aweful, secret word, 
 And, answering his commands, 
 
 In white and drooping cerements 
 The perished Beauty stands. 
 
Ballads 247 
 
 Her face is sad. With frightened sighs 
 Her poor, cold breasts are stirred. 
 
 She sits beside the startled monk. 
 They stare — without a word . . . 
 
 ANNO 1829 
 Dass ich bequem verbluten kann 
 
 Give me a nobler, wider field, 
 Where I, at least, can bleed to death ! 
 
 Oh do not let me stifle here 
 
 Among these hucksters. Give me breath ! 
 
 They eat and drink with greedy haste, 
 Dull and complacent as the mole ; 
 
 Their generosity is large — 
 As large as, say, the poor-box hole. 
 
 Cigar in mouth they stroll along, 
 
 Their hands are fat with many a gem ; 
 
 Their stomachs are both huge and strong — 
 But who could ever stomach them! 
 
 They deal in spices, but the air 
 Is filled, alas, with something else ; 
 
 Even their souls pollute the streets 
 And foul them with their fishy smells. 
 
 If they but had some human vice, 
 Some lust too terrible to see — 
 
 But not these flabby virtues, not 
 This cheap and smug morality ! 
 
248 New Poems 
 
 Ye clouds above, take me away, 
 To Africa or furthest North. 
 
 Even to Pomerania ; pray, 
 
 Carry me with you — bear me forth ! 
 
 Take me away . . . They do not hear. 
 
 The clouds are wise ; they never heed. 
 For when they see this town they fly — 
 
 And anxiously increase their speed. 
 
 PSYCHE 
 In der Hand die kleine Lampe 
 
 With a small light in her fingers 
 And a great glow in her breast, 
 
 Psyche creeps into the chamber 
 Where the Sleeper is at rest. 
 
 She grows frightened and she blushes 
 As she sees his beauty bare — 
 
 While the god of love awakens, 
 And his pinions beat the air . . . 
 
 Eighteen hundred years of penance ! 
 
 She, poor soul, still fasts with awe ; 
 Almost dead, because she came where 
 
 Love lay naked — and she saw ! 
 
Ballads 249 
 
 THE UNKNOWN 
 Meiner goldgelackten Schonen 
 
 My adored and golden-haired one, 
 Every day I'm sure to meet her, 
 When beneath the chestnut branches 
 In the Tuileries she wanders. 
 
 Every day she comes and walks there 
 With two old and awful ladies — 
 Are they aunts ? Or are they dragons ? 
 Or dragoons in skirts and flounces ? 
 
 No one even seems to know her. 
 I have asked friends and relations ; 
 But I ask in vain. I question 
 While I almost die of longing. 
 
 Yes, I'm frightened by the grimness 
 Of her two mustached companions ; 
 And I'm even more upset by 
 This, my heart's unusual beating. 
 
 I have never dared a whisper 
 Or a sigh whene'er I passed her, 
 I have scarcely dared a burning 
 Glance to tell her of my passion. 
 
 But to-day I have discovered 
 What her name is. It is Laura ; 
 Like the sweet, Provencal maiden 
 Worshiped by the famous poet. 
 
250 New Poems 
 
 She is Laura ! I'm as great now 
 As was Petrarch when he chanted 
 And extolled his lovely lady 
 In those canzonets and sonnets. 
 
 She is Laura! Yes, like Petrarch, 
 I can hold platonic riots 
 On this name, and clasp its beauty — 
 He himself did nothing more. 
 
 AWAY ! 
 
 Der Tag ist in die Nacht verliebt 
 
 The Day is enamored of Night, 
 And Spring is entranced by Winter, 
 Life is in love with Death, 
 And you — are in love with me ! 
 
 You love me — look, and even now 
 Gray shadows seem to fold you ; 
 All of your blossoming fades 
 And your white soul lies bleeding. 
 
 Oh shrink from me, and only love 
 The butterflies light-hearted, 
 That sport among the golden beams . . . 
 Oh shrink from me — and all things bitter. 
 
Ballads 251 
 
 A MEETING 
 Wohl unter der Linde erklingt die 'Musik 
 
 Under the linden the music is gay, 
 The couples are gossiping loudly; 
 
 And two are dancing whom nobody knows, 
 They carry themselves so proudly. 
 
 Now here, now there, they glide and sway 
 
 In wave-like measures beguiling. 
 They bow to each other, and, as they nod, 
 
 She whispers, gently smiling: 
 
 "A water-pink is hanging from 
 Your cap, my fair young dancer; 
 
 It only grows in the depths of the sea — 
 You are no mortal man, sir. 
 
 "You are a merman, and to lure 
 These village maids your wish is. 
 
 I knew you at once by your watery eyes 
 And your teeth as sharp as the fishes'." 
 
 Now here, now there, they glide and sway 
 
 In wave-like measures beguiling. 
 They bow to each other, and, as they nod, 
 
 He answers, gently smiling : 
 
 " My lovely lady, tell me why 
 
 Your hand's so cold and shiny ? 
 And why is the border of your gown 
 
 So damp and draggled and briny ? 
 
252 New Poems 
 
 " I knew you at once by your watery eyes, 
 And your bow so mocking and tricksy — 
 
 You are never a child of men, my dear ; 
 You are my cousin, the Nixie." 
 
 The fiddles are silent, the dancing is done; 
 
 They part with a ripple of laughter. 
 They know each other too well and will try 
 
 To avoid such a meeting hereafter. 
 
 THE FAITHLESS LOUISA 
 Die ungetreue Luise 
 
 The fair and faithless Louisa 
 
 Returned and, lightly flitting, . 
 She came to where the lamps burned low 
 
 And Ulrich still was sitting. 
 
 She cozened and she kissed him ; 
 
 She smiled, and tried to soften 
 His.grief and said, " How you have changed- 
 
 You used to laugh so often ! " 
 
 She cozened and she kissed him 
 
 Where he lay, sad and sunken . . . 
 
 " My God, your hands are cold as ice, 
 And all the flesh is shrunken ! " 
 
 She cozened and she kissed him ; 
 
 Tears wet her lovely lashes . . . 
 " My God, your hair that was so black 
 
 Is now as gray as ashes! " 
 
Ballads 253 
 
 And the poor Ulrich sat there, 
 Silent and old and broken; 
 
 He kissed his faithless sweetheart, 
 And not a word was spoken. 
 
POEMS FOR THE TIMES 
 
 (1839-1846) 
 
_A 
 
DOCTRINE 
 
 Schlage die Trommel und fiirchte dich nicht 
 
 Beat on the drum and blow the fife 
 And kiss the vivandiere, my boy. 
 
 Fear nothing — that's the whole of life; 
 Its deepest truth, its soundest joy. 
 
 Beat reveille, and with a blast 
 
 Arouse all men to valiant strife. 
 Waken the world; and then, at last, 
 
 March on . . . That is the whole of life. 
 
 This is Philosophy ; this is Truth ; 
 
 This is the burning source of joy! 
 I've borne this wisdom from my youth, 
 
 For I, too, was a drummer-boy. 
 
 A WARNING 
 Solche B ticker lasst du drucken! 
 
 You will print such books as these ? 
 
 Then you're lost, my friend, that's certain. 
 
 If you wish for gold and honor, 
 Write more humbly — bend your knees ! 
 
 Aye, you must have lost your senses, 
 Thus to speak before the people, 
 Thus to dare to talk of preachers 
 
 And of potentates and princes! 
 257 
 
258 New Poems 
 
 Friend, you're doomed, so it appears : 
 For the princes have long arms, 
 And the preachers have long tongues, 
 
 — And the masses have long ears ! 
 
 DEGENERATION 
 
 Hat die Natur sich auch verschlechtert 
 
 Has even Nature altered badly ? 
 
 And does she ape what we began? 
 It seems to me the beasts and flowers 
 
 Deceive as readily as man. 
 
 The lily's purity I question ; 
 
 She yields to love and seeks to stay 
 The butterfly that flits above her 
 
 And bears her chastity away. 
 
 I even doubt the modest virtue 
 Of violets. They have no shame, 
 
 But fling their scent like any wanton 
 And thirst in secret after fame. 
 
 I half suspect the song-bird's ardor 
 Expresses more than he can mean ; 
 
 He overdoes his trills and raptures — 
 And does them only by routine. 
 
 The truth has disappeared, I fancy, 
 And simple faith has left us, too. 
 
 Only the dogs still fawn around us, 
 And even they do not seem true. 
 
Poems for the Times 259 
 
 HENRY 
 
 Auf dem Schlosshof zu Canossa 
 
 In the courtyard at Canossa 
 Stands the German Emperor Henry, 
 Barefoot in his shirt of penance, 
 And the night is cold and rainy. 
 
 From the window two dim figures 
 Gaze upon him, and the moonlight 
 Gleams on Gregory, bald-headed, 
 And the white breast of Matilda. 
 
 And the pale-lipped Emperor Henry 
 Prays his pious paternoster; 
 But within his kingly heart he 
 Rends himself and cries in anguish : 
 
 " Far in my own German country 
 High and mighty hills are towering ; 
 And within their depths, the iron 
 For the battle-axe is growing. 
 
 "Far in my own German country 
 High and mighty oaks are towering ; 
 And in some great trunk, the handle 
 For the battle-axe is growing. 
 
 " Germany, my own beloved, 
 You will bear the mighty hero 
 Who will wield the axe and swiftly 
 Crush the serpent that torments me ! " 
 
260 New Poems 
 
 TO GEORGE HERWEGH 
 
 Herwegh, du eiserne Lerche 
 
 Herwegh, you lark of iron! 
 
 You rise on a swift and jubilant wing 
 
 Toward sunlight and freedom, Liberty's 
 lover ! 
 
 Is the long winter really over? 
 Is Germany really awake to the spring? 
 
 Herwegh, you lark of iron, 
 Because your passionate flight is long, 
 
 You have forgotten earth's condition. 
 
 The Spring you hail with such a vision 
 Has blossomed only in your song. 
 
 A TOPSY TURVY WORLD 
 Das ist ja die verkehrte Welt 
 
 This is a topsy-turvy world ; 
 
 Men on their heads are walking! 
 The woodcocks, by the dozen, shoot 
 
 The hunters that are stalking. 
 
 The calves are roasting all the cooks ; 
 
 And men are driven by horses ; 
 On knowledge, light and liberty 
 
 The catholic owl discourses. 
 
 The herring is a sans-culotte; 
 
 The truth Bettina's saying ; 
 And Sophocles upon our stage 
 
 A Puss-in-boots is playing. 
 
Poems for the Times 261 
 
 For German heroes apes have built 
 
 A Pantheon enormous! 
 Massmann at last has combed his hair, 
 
 The German prints inform us. 
 
 The German bears are atheists, 
 
 All former faiths rejecting ; 
 While the French parrots have become 
 
 Good Christians, self-respecting. 
 
 The Moniteur of Uckermark 
 To madness seems to drive one: 
 
 A dead man there has dared to write 
 An epitaph on a live one. 
 
 Let us not swim against the stream; 
 
 'T would be no use whatever. 
 So let us climb the hill and cry 
 
 "May the King live forever!" 
 
 GERMANY 
 Deutschland ist noch kleines Kind 
 
 Germany's still a little child. 
 
 The sun's his nurse; she'll feed him 
 No soothing milk to make him strong, 
 
 But the wild fires of freedom. 
 
 On such a diet one grows fast ; 
 
 The blood will boil and lurch in 
 The veins. You neighbors, have a care, 
 
 Before you plague this urchin ! 
 
262 New Poems 
 
 He is a clumsy little giant; 
 
 He'll tear up oaks, and well he 
 Will use them till your backs are sore, 
 
 And pound you to a jelly. 
 
 He is like Siegfried, fearless youth, 
 Who did such deeds of wonder; 
 
 Who forged his sword, and when he smote 
 The anvil flew asunder ! 
 
 Yes, Siegfried, you shall slay the grim 
 Dragon while thanks are given. 
 
 Huzzah ! How radiantly your nurse 
 Will laugh and shine through heaven. 
 
 Yours shall be all the hoard, when you 
 Have slain the monster horrid. 
 
 Huzzah ! How bright the king's own crown 
 Will blaze upon your forehead ! 
 
 ONLY WAIT! 
 
 Weil ich so ganz vorziiglich blitze 
 
 What ! Think you that my flashes show me 
 
 Only in lightnings to excel? 
 Believe me, friends, you do not know me — 
 
 For I can thunder quite as well. 
 
 In sorrow you shall learn your error; 
 
 My voice shall grow, and in amaze 
 Your eyes and ears shall feel the terror, 
 
 The thundering word, the stormy blaze. 
 
Poems for the Times 263 
 
 Oaks shall be rent ; the Word shall shatter . . . 
 
 Yea, on that fiery day, the crown, 
 Even the palace-walls shall totter, 
 
 And domes and spires come crashing down ! 
 
 THE WEAVERS 
 
 Im diistern Auge keine Thrdne 
 
 From darkened eyes no tears are falling; 
 Gnashing our teeth, we sit here calling: 
 " Germany, listen, ere we disperse, 
 We weave your shroud with a triple curse — 
 We weave, we are weaving! 
 
 " A curse to the false god that we prayed to, 
 And worshiped in spite of all, and obeyed, too. 
 We waited and hoped and suffered in vain; 
 He laughed at us, sneering, for all of our pain — 
 We weave, we are weaving ! 
 
 " A curse to the king, and a curse to his coffin, 
 The rich man's king whom our plight could not soften ; 
 Who took our last penny by taxes and cheats, 
 And let us be shot like the dogs in the streets — 
 We weave, we are weaving! 
 
 " A curse to the Fatherland, whose face is 
 Covered with lies and foul disgraces ; 
 Where the bud is crushed as it leaves the seed, 
 And the worm grows fat on corruption and greed — 
 W? weave, we are weaving ! 
 
264 New Poems 
 
 " The shuttle flies in the creaking loom ; 
 And night and day we weave your doom — 
 Old Germany, listen, ere we disperse 
 We weave your shroud with a triple curse. 
 We weave — we are weaving! " 
 
 FOUR SONGS 
 
 Es erklingt wie Liebestone 
 
 Through my heart the most beguiling 
 Bits of love-songs rise and flit. 
 
 And I think the little, smiling 
 Love-God has a hand in it. 
 
 In my heart he's the director, 
 Calling forth its dearest themes ; 
 
 And the music, sweet as nectar, 
 Holds and echoes all my dreams. 
 
 Was bedeuten gelbe Rosen 
 
 Yellow roses as an offering — 
 
 And they mean ? . . . A thorny path ; 
 
 Love that is at war with wrath, 
 And persists, in spite of suffering. 
 
Poems for the Times 265 
 
 Wir miissen zugleich uns betriiben 
 
 We laugh and we are troubled 
 
 Whene'er our fingers touch, 
 That hearts can love so greatly 
 
 And minds can doubt so much. 
 
 Do you not feel, my darling, 
 
 My heart beat through the gloom? 
 
 She nods her head, and murmurs, 
 " It beats — God knows for whom ! " 
 
 Das macht den Menschen glucklich 
 
 It makes a man feel happy, 
 
 It drains him to the dregs, 
 When he has three fair sweethearts 
 
 And just one pair of legs. 
 
 I visit the first in the morning; 
 
 I seek the second at night; 
 The third does not wait, but comes to me 
 
 At noon in a blaze of light. 
 
 Farewell, my three fair sweethearts, 
 
 Two legs are all I've got; 
 I'll go and make love to Nature 
 
 In some more quiet spot. 
 
ROMANCERO 
 
 (LAMENTATIONS, LAZARUS AND LAST 
 POEMS) 
 (1846-1855) 
 
Wenn man an dir Verrat geiibt 
 
 When all men have betrayed your trust, 
 
 Make Faith your one desire; 
 When they have dragged your soul in dust, 
 
 Take up the lyre! 
 
 In what a bright, heroic fnood 
 
 The radiant chords are ringing. 
 The scornful heart, the angry blood 
 
 Leap into singing! 
 
 PROLOG 
 
 Das Gliick ist eine leichte Dime 
 
 Good-Fortune is a giddy maid, 
 Fickle and restless as a fawn; 
 
 She smoothes your hair ; and then the jade 
 Kisses you quickly, and is gone. 
 
 But Madam Sorrow scorns all this, 
 She shows no eagerness for flitting; 
 
 But with a long and fervent kiss 
 
 Sits by your bed — and brings her knitting. 
 
 THE ASRA 
 
 Taglich ging die wunderschone 
 
 Daily came the lone and lovely 
 Sultan's daughter, slowly wandering 
 In the evening to the fountain 
 Where the plashing waters whitened. 
 269 
 
270 New Poems 
 
 Daily stood the youthful captive 
 In the evening by the fountain 
 Where the plashing waters whitened — 
 Daily growing pale and paler . . . 
 
 Till one dusk the strolling Princess 
 Stopped and spoke a hurried sentence : 
 " Tell me now thy name, and tell me 
 Of thy country and thy kindred." 
 
 And the slave replied, " My name is 
 Mohamet ; I come from Yemen. 
 And my people are the Asra, 
 Who, whene'er they love, must perish.' 
 
 From the PRELUDE (to " Vitzliputzli ") : 
 
 Dieses ist Amerikal 
 
 This is America! 
 This is the new world! 
 Not the present European 
 Wasted and withering sphere. 
 
 This is the new world, 
 As it was when Columbus 
 Drew it first from the ocean. 
 Radiant with its freshening bath; 
 
 Still dripping its watery pearls, 
 In showers and spurts of color 
 As the light of the sun kisses them . . 
 How strong and healthy is this world ! 
 
Romancero 271 
 
 This is no graveyard of Romance ; 
 This is no pile of ruins, 
 Of fossilized wigs and symbols 
 Or stale and musty Tradition ! 
 
 FAREWELL 
 Hatte wie ein Pelikan 
 
 Like a pelican I fed you 
 
 With my blood ; you ate and drank me. 
 Now you give me gall and wormwood — 
 
 What a pleasant way to thank me ! 
 
 It was never meant in malice, 
 And your eyes were never fretful; 
 
 Nothing creased that placid forehead — 
 You were just a bit forgetful. 
 
 So good-bye ; and, though I weep, you 
 Will not care or wonder why. 
 
 Smile farewell — and may God keep you 
 Just a lovely butterfly. 
 
 MYTHOLOGY 
 Ja, Europa ist erlegen 
 
 Yes, Europa is forgiven 
 
 And Danae too. What power 
 Could subdue a golden shower 
 
 Or withstand a bull from heaven? 
 
272 New Poems 
 
 Semele was not much wiser 
 When she lost her precious honor ; 
 For it never dawned upon her 
 
 That a cloud could compromise her. 
 
 But our scorn arises quicker 
 When we read the tale of Leda — 
 Only such a goose would heed a 
 
 Silly swan and let it trick her! 
 
 SECURITY 
 Liebe sprach zum Gott der Lieder 
 
 Love said to the God of Music, 
 
 " Times are changed. I'd be a dumb thing 
 
 If I gave myself without a 
 
 Guarantee or pledge of something." 
 
 "Yes," Apollo answered laughing, 
 
 " Times are changed indeed. You talk like 
 
 Some old usurer demanding 
 Pledges, cynical and hawk-like. 
 
 " Well, I only have my lyre, 
 
 But it's gold, depend upon it. 
 Tell me, darling, just how many 
 
 Kisses would you lend me on it ? " 
 
 AUTO-DA-FE 
 
 Welke Veilchen, staub'ge Locken 
 
 Faded violets, dusty tresses, 
 And a band that once was blue; 
 
 Things that I had long forgotten, 
 Ribbons, crumpled billets-doux— r 
 
Romancero 273 
 
 I have dropped them, smiling sadly, 
 In the flames and watch them where 
 
 Countless joys and countless sorrows 
 Sparkle in the ruins there. 
 
 Up the flue go love and lovers, 
 
 Frail and foolish oaths — alas ! 
 And the little Cupid chuckles 
 
 As he sees them burn and pass. 
 
 And I sit here by the ruins, 
 
 Dreaming in the lessening light ; 
 
 While the sparks among the ashes 
 Faintly glow . . . Farewell . . . 
 Good Night. 
 
 MORPHINE 
 
 Gross ist die Ahnlichkeit der beiden schonen 
 
 Great is the similarity between 
 These two fair figures, although one appears 
 Much paler than the other, far more calm ; 
 Fairer and nobler even, I might say, 
 Than his companion, in whose arms 
 I lay so warmly. How divine and soft 
 Were all his smiles, and what a look was his ! 
 It must have been the poppy-wreath he wore 
 About his brows that touched my throbbing head 
 And with its magic perfume soothed all pain 
 And sorrow in my soul . . . But such sweet balm 
 Lasts but a little while ; I can be cured 
 Completely only when the other one, 
 The grave and paler brother, drops his torch. 
 For Sleep is good, but Death is better still — 
 The best is never to be born at all. 
 
274 New Poems 
 
 SOLOMON 
 Verstummt sind Pauken, Posaunen und Zinken 
 
 The trumpets and drums are no longer sounded, 
 
 Hushed is the dulcimer and flute. 
 
 King Solomon sleeps, and the night is mute. 
 He sleeps — by twelve thousand angels surrounded. 
 
 They guard his dreams from clamor and cumber. 
 And should he even knit his brow 
 Twelve thousand arms would be lifted now, 
 
 Twelve thousand swords would flash through his 
 slumber. 
 
 But gently now the swords are lying 
 
 Within each scabbard. The night-winds soothe 
 The dreamer's dreams and his brow is smooth ; 
 
 Only his lips are restless, sighing: 
 
 " Oh Shulamite ! all people cherish 
 
 My favor and bring me tributes and sing; 
 I am both Judah's and Israel's king — 
 
 But, lest you love me, I wither and perish." 
 
 Wie langsam kriechet sie dahin 
 
 How slowly Time, the frightful snail, 
 Crawls to the corner that I lie in ; 
 
 While I, who cannot move at all, 
 
 Watch from the place that I must die in. 
 
Romancero 275 
 
 Here in my darkened cell no hope 
 Enters and breaks the gloom asunder ; 
 
 I know I shall not leave this room 
 Except for one that's six feet under. 
 
 Perhaps I have been dead some time ; 
 
 Perhaps my bright and whirling fancies 
 Are only ghosts that, in my head, 
 
 Keep up their wild, nocturnal dances. 
 
 They well might be a pack of ghosts, 
 Some sort of pagan gods or devils ; 
 
 And a dead poet's skull is just 
 
 The place they'd choose to have their 
 revels ! 
 
 Those orgies, furious and sweet, 
 
 Come suddenly, without a warning . . . 
 
 And then the poet's cold, dead hand 
 Attempts to write them down next 
 morning. 
 
 Mitteralterliche Roheit 
 
 Medisevalism's crudeness 
 Has been softened by the fine arts. 
 And our modern culture's climax 
 Is, I'm sure, the grand piano. 
 
 Railways also are a splendid 
 Influence on our way of living; 
 For they lighten half the sorrow 
 When we part from our relations. 
 
276 New Poems 
 
 Tis a pity the consumption 
 Of my spine makes it seem doubtful 
 That I shall remain much longer 
 In a world so swift with progress. 
 
 EPILOG 
 
 Unser Grab erw'drmt der Ruhm 
 
 " Glory warms us in the grave." 
 Nonsense! That's a silly stave! 
 There's a better warmth than this 
 Found in any cow-girl's kiss, 
 Though she be a thick-lipped flirt, 
 Though she reek of dung and dirt. 
 And a better warmth, I'm thinking, 
 Every man has found in drinking; 
 Lapping wine, the lucky dog, 
 Punch or even common grog ; 
 Sprawling over filthy benches 
 With the vilest thieves and wenches 
 That have yet deserved a hanging; 
 Yes, but — living and haranguing — 
 Worth more envy, every one, 
 Than fair Thetis' noble son! 
 
 Old Pelides spoke the truth : 
 Richer is the poorest youth 
 Who's alive, than lords and ladies 
 And the greatest kings in Hades. 
 Praised in many a classic tome, or 
 All the heroes sung by Homer ! 
 
Romancero 277 
 
 WHERE? 
 
 Wo wird einst des Wandermuden 
 
 Where shall I, the wander-wearied, 
 Find my haven and my shrine? 
 
 Under palms will I be buried? 
 Under lindens on the Rhine ? 
 
 Shall I lie in desert reaches, 
 Buried by a stranger's hand ? 
 
 Or upon the well-loved beaches, 
 Covered by the friendly sand? 
 
 Well, what matter ! God has given 
 Wider spaces there than here. 
 
 And the stars that swing in heaven 
 Shall be lamps above my bier. 
 
 ENFANT PERDU 
 Verlorner Fasten in dem Freiheitskriege 
 
 For more than thirty years I've been defending, 
 In Freedom's struggle, many a desperate post. 
 
 I knew the fight was hopeless, never-ending; 
 But still I fought, wounded and battle-tossed. 
 
 Waking through nights and days, no peaceful slumbers 
 Were mine while all the others slept their fill. 
 
 (The mighty snoring of these valiant numbers 
 Kept me awake when I was tired or ill.) 
 
278 New Poems 
 
 In those long nights I have been often frightened 
 (For only fools are not afraid of fear), 
 
 But I would whistle till the terror lightened, 
 And sing my mocking rhymes to give me cheer. 
 
 Yes, I have stood, my musket primed and ready, 
 On guard; and when some rascal raised his head 
 
 I took good aim (my arm was always steady) 
 And let him have a bellyful of lead. 
 
 And yet those knaves — I may as well admit it — 
 Could shoot quite well ; the rascals often chose 
 
 A splendid mark, and, what is more, they hit it ! 
 My wounds are gaping . . . and my blood still flows. 
 
 One post is vacant ! As a bloody token 
 
 I wear my wounds . . . another takes my part. 
 
 But, though I fall, my sword is still unbroken; 
 The only thing that's broken is my heart. 
 
Romancero 279 
 
 HYMN 
 
 Ich bin das Schwert, ich bin die Flamme 
 
 I am the Sword, I am the Flame. 
 
 I have lit you through the darkness; and 
 when the battle began, I fought in the first 
 rank and led you on. . . . 
 
 Round about me lie the bodies of my 
 friends, but we have triumphed. We have 
 triumphed — but round about me lie the bodies 
 of my friends. Amid the jubilant songs of 
 victory the dirge of the funeral is heard. 
 But we have neither time for rejoicing nor 
 for sorrow. The trumpets are sounding 
 again — there shall be new and holier bat- 
 tles. . . . 
 
 I am the Sword, I am the Flame f 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX 
 
 OF 
 
 FIRST LINES IN GERMAN 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ach, die Augen sind es wieder 137 
 
 Ach, wenn ich nur der Schemel war' 62 
 
 Ach, wie schon bist du, wenn traulich 223 
 
 Allnachtlich im Traume seh' ich dich 76 
 
 Als ich auf der Reise zufallig 91 
 
 Als sie mich umschlang mit zartiichem Pressen 134 
 
 Am blassen Meeresstrande 174 
 
 Am Fenster stand die Mutter 150 
 
 Am fernen Horizonte 99 
 
 Am Kreuzweg wird begraben 80 
 
 Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen 70 
 
 Am Meer, am wiisten, nachtlichen Meer 194 
 
 An deine schneeweisse Schulter 135 
 
 An dem stillen Meeresstrande 217 
 
 Anfangs wollt' ich fast verzagen 25 
 
 Auf dem Berge steht die Hutte 158 
 
 Auf dem Schlosshof zu Canossa 259 
 
 Auf den Wallen Salamankas 139 
 
 Auf den Wolken ruht der Mond 94 
 
 Auf diesen Felsen bauen wir 218 
 
 Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges 48 
 
 Auf ihrem Grab da steht eine Linde 241 
 
 Augen, die ich langst vergessen 234 
 
 Aus alten Marchen winkt es 68 
 
 Aus meinen grossen Schmerzen 63 
 
 Aus meinen Thranen spriessen 45 
 
 Auf meiner Herzliebsten Augelein 51 
 
 Berg" und Burgen schaun herunter 25 
 
 Bist du wirklich mir so feindlich 136 
 
 Da droben auf jenem Berge 98 
 
 Dammernd leigt der Sommerabend 141 
 
 Das Fraulein stand am Meere. 219 
 
 Das Gliick, das gestern mich gekiisst 236 
 
 Das Glfick ist eine leichte Dime 269 
 
 ss8i 
 
282 Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Das ist des Friihlings traurige Lust ! 245 
 
 Das ist ja die verkehrte Welt 260 
 
 Das Herz ist mir bedriickt, und sehnlich 113 
 
 Das ist der alte Marchenwald 3 
 
 Das ist ein Brausen und Heulen 76 
 
 Das ist ein Floten und Geigen 54 
 
 Das ist ein schlechtes Wetter 107 
 
 Das macht den Menschen gliicklich 265 
 
 Das Meer erglanzte weit hinaus 97 
 
 Das Meer erstrahlt im Sonnenschein 221 
 
 Das Meer hat seine Perlen 181 
 
 Dass du mich liebst, das wusst' ich 217 
 
 Dass ich bequem verbluten kann 247 
 
 Dass ich dich liebe, o Mopschen 27 
 
 Dein Angesicht, so lieb und schon 46 
 
 Deine weissen Liljenfinger 109 
 
 Den Konig Wiswamitra 117 
 
 Der arme Peter wankt vorbei 35 
 
 Der bleiche, herbstliche Halbmond 106 
 
 Der Brief, den du geschrieben 213 
 
 Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum 34 
 
 Der Herbstwind riittelt die Baurae J7 
 
 Der junge Franziskaner sitzt 246 
 
 Der kranke Sohn und die Mutter 153 
 
 Der Mai ist da mit seinen goldnen Lichtern 143 
 
 Der Mond ist aufgegangen 94 
 
 Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt 206 
 
 Der Traumgott bracht' mich in ein Riesenschloss 78 
 
 Der Sturm spielt auf zum Tanze 96 
 
 Der Tag ist in die Nacht verliebt 250 
 
 Der Tod, das ist die kuhle Nacht 142 
 
 Der weite Boden ist iiberzogen 30 
 
 Der Wind zieht seine Hosen an 96 
 
 Deutschland ist noch kleines Kind 261 
 
 Die alten bosen Lieder 82 
 
 Die blauen Friihlingsaugeti 208 
 
 Die blauen Veilchen der Augelein 60 
 
 Die Erde war so lange geizig 59 
 
 Die grauen Nachmittagswolken 196 
 
 Die holden Wiinsche bliihen 214 
 
 Die Jahre kommen und gehen 105 
 
 Die Jungfrau schlaft in der Kammer 103 
 
 Die Lilje meiner Liebe 99 
 
 Die Linde bliihte, die Nachtigall sang 57 
 
 Die Lotosblume angstigt 49 
 
 Die Mitternacht war kalt und stumm 79 
 
 Die Mutter-Gottes zU Kevlaar 151 
 
 Die Nacht ist feucht und stiirmisch * 90 
 
 Die Rose, die Lilje, die Taube, die Sonne 46 
 
 Die Rose duftet — doch ob sie empfindet 210 
 
Index 283 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Die schlanke Wasserlilie 209 
 
 Die schone Sonne 189 
 
 Diesen liebenswurd'gen Jiingling 128 
 
 Deiser Liebe toller Fasching 226 
 
 Dieses ist Amerika 270 
 
 Die Sonnenlichter spielten 178 
 
 Die ungetreue Luise 252 
 
 Die Walder und Felder griinen 26 
 
 Die Welt ist dumm, die Welt ist blind 52 
 
 Die Welt ist so schon und der Himmel so blau 60 
 
 Doch die Kastraten klagten 138 
 
 Du bist ja heut so grambefangen 239 
 
 Du bist wie eine Blume 118 
 
 Du bleibest mir treu am langsten 59 
 
 Du hast Diamanten und Perlen 126 
 
 Du liebst mich nicht, du liebst mich nicht 50 
 
 Du liegst mir so gern im Arme 232 
 
 Du schones Fischermadchen 93 
 
 Du sollst mich liebend umschliessen 50 
 
 Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam 61 
 
 Eingehiillt in graue Wolken 95 
 
 Ein Jiingling liebt ein Madchen 66 
 
 Ein Reiter durch das Bergthal zieht 33 
 
 Ein schoner Stern geht auf in meiner Nacht 232 
 
 Emma, sage mir die Wahrheit 231 
 
 Entflieh mit mir und sei mein Weib 240 
 
 Er ist so herzbeweglich 235 
 
 Er steht so starr wie ein Baumstamm 230 
 
 Es treibt mich hin, es treibt mich her ! 21 
 
 Es blasen die blauen Husaren 135 
 
 Es drangt die Not, es lauten die Glocken 208 
 
 Es erklingen alle Baume 206 
 
 Es erklingt wie Liebestone 264 
 
 Es fallt ein Stern herunter 78 
 
 Es fiel ein Reif in der Friihlingsnacht 241 
 
 Es glanzt so schon die sinkende Sonne 235 
 
 Es haben unsre Herzen , 210 
 
 Es kommt ein Vogel geflogen aus Westen 195 
 
 Es lauft dahin die Barke 236 
 
 Es lechtet meine Liebe 70 
 
 Es liegt der heisse Sommer 71 
 
 Es ragt ins Meer der Runenstein 221 
 
 Es schauen die Blumen alle 67 
 
 Es stehen unbeweglich 47 
 
 Es war ein alter Konig 211 
 
 Es war mal ein Ritter, trtibselig und stumm 43 
 
 Es wiitet der Sturm 181 
 
 Es Ziehen die brausenden Wellen 220 
 
284 
 
 Index 
 
 PACK 
 
 Freundschaft, Liebe, Stein der Weisen 66 
 
 Fiirchte nichts, geliebte Seele 225 
 
 Gaben mir Rat und gute Lehren 127 
 
 Gross ist die Ahnlichkeit der beiden schonen 273 
 
 Habe auch in jungen Jahren 136 
 
 Habe mich mit Liebesreden 123 
 
 Hast du die Lippen mir wund gektisst 133 
 
 Hat die Natur sich auch verschlechtert 258 
 
 " Hat sie sich denn nie geaussert " 109 
 
 Hatte wie ein Pelikan 271 
 
 Heller wird es schon im Osten 167 
 
 Herangedammert kam der Abend 180 
 
 Herwegh, du eiserne Lerche 260 
 
 Herz, rnein Herz, sei nicht beklommen 118 
 
 Himmlisch war's, wenn ich bezwang 137 
 
 Hoch am Himmel stand die Sonne 184 
 
 Hor' ich das Liedchen klingen 66 
 
 Ich bin das Schwert, ich bin die Flamme 279 
 
 Ich bin die Prinzessin Use 168 
 
 Ich bin nun funfunddressig Jahr' alt 237 
 
 Ich glaub' nicht an den Himmel 58 
 
 Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Herz auch bricht 53 
 
 Ich hab' dich geliebet und liebe dich noch ! 69 
 
 Ich hab' im Traum geweinet 75 
 
 Ich hab' mir lang den Kopf zerbrochen 124 
 
 Ich halte ihr die Augen zu 224 
 
 Ich hatte einst ein schones Vaterland 240 
 
 Ich kann es nicht vergessen 63 
 
 Ich kam von meiner Herrin Haus 11 
 
 Ich lag und schlief, und schlief recht mild 17 
 
 Ich liebe solche weisse Glieder ill 
 
 Ich rief den Teufel und er kam 111 
 
 Ich stand in dunkeln Traumen 104 
 
 Ich steh' auf des Berges Spitze 74 
 
 Ich trat in jene Hallen ior 
 
 Ich ungliicksel'ger Atlas ! eine Welt 104 
 
 Ich wandelte unter den Baumen 22 
 
 Ich weiss eine alte Runde 39^ 
 
 Ich weiss nicht, was soil es bedeuten 87 
 
 Ich will meine Seele tauchen 47 
 
 Ich will mich im griinen Wald ergehn 27 
 
 Teh wollte bei dir weilen 122 
 
 Ich wollte, meine Lieder 23 
 
 Ich wollt' meine Schmerzen ergossen 125 
 
 Ihr Lieder ! Ihr meine guten Lieder ! 173 
 
 Irri Anfang war die Nachtigall 207 
 
 Im diistern Auge keine Thrane 263 
 
Index 285 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ira Rhein, im schonen Strome 49 
 
 Ira Traum sah ich die Geliebte 115 
 
 1m Traum sah ich ein Mannchen, klein und putzig 9 
 
 Im Walde wandl' ich und weine 89 
 
 Im wunderschonen Monat Mai 45 
 
 In dem abendlichen Garten 146 
 
 In dem Walde spriesst und grunt es 205 
 
 In den Kussen, welche Luge 134 
 
 In der Hand die kleine Lampe 248 
 
 In meinen Tagestraumen 227 
 
 In mein gar zu dunkles Leben 87 
 
 " In meiner Brust, da sitzt ein Weh' " 34 
 
 In meiner Erinnrung erbliihen 212 
 
 In welche soil ich mich verlieben 229 
 
 Ja, du bist elend, und iche grolle nicht 54 
 
 Ja, Europa ist erlegen 271 
 
 Jugend, die mir taglich schwindet 230 
 
 Kaum sahen wir uns, und an Augen und Stimmen 139 
 
 Kind ! es ware dein Verderben 119 
 
 Konig ist der Hirtenknabe 166 
 
 Kiisse, die man stiehlt im Dunkeln 211 
 
 Lehn' deine Wang' an meine Wang' 47 
 
 Leise zieht durch mein Gemiit 205 
 
 Liebe sprach zum Gott der Lieder 272 
 
 Lieb Liebchen, leg's Handchen aufs Herze mein 23 
 
 Liebste, sollst mir heute sagen : 52 
 
 Madchen mit dem roten Mundchen 120 
 
 Mag da draussen Schnee sich tiirmen 120 
 
 Manch Bild vergessener Zeiten 65 
 
 Man glaubt, dass ich mich grame 108 
 
 Meeresstille ! Ihre Strahlen 183 
 
 Meine Qual und meine Klagen 43 
 
 Meiner goldgelockten Schonen 249 
 
 Mein Herz, mein Herz ist traurig 88 
 
 Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder 112 
 
 Mein Knecht ! steh auf und sattle schnell 37 
 
 Mein Liebchen, wir sassen beisammen 68 
 
 Mein susses Lieb, wenn du im Grab 61 
 
 Mein Wagen rollet langsam 75 
 
 Mensch, verspotte nicht den Teufel 111 
 
 Mir redet ein die Eitelkeit 234 
 
 Mir traumt : ich bin der liebe Gott 129 
 
 Mir traumte von einem Konigskind 67 
 
 Mir traumte wieder der alte Traum 73 
 
 Mit deinen blauen Augen 209 
 
 Mit deinen grossen, allwissenden Augen .• 28 
 
286 Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mit schwarzen Segeln segelt mein Schiff 219 
 
 Mitteralterliche Roheit 275 
 
 Morgens send' ich dir die Veilchen 212 
 
 Morgens steh' ich auf und frage 21 
 
 Mutter zura Bienelein 39 
 
 Nach Frankreich zogen zwei Grenadier' 35 
 
 Nacht lag auf meinen Augen 80 
 
 Nacht liegt auf den fremden Wegen 142 
 
 Nicht lange tauschte mich das Gltick 228 
 
 Nun ist es Zeit, dass ich rait Verstand 117 
 
 O, des liebenswiird'gen Dichters 238 
 
 O, die Liebe macht uns selig 29 
 
 O, du kanntest Koch und Kiiche 28 
 
 O, mein gnadiges Fraulein, erlaubt 127 
 
 O schwore nicht und kusse nur 51 
 
 Philister in Sonntagsrocklein 64 
 
 " Sag, wo ist dein schones Liebchen " 143 
 
 Saphire sind die Augen dein 122 
 
 Schaff mich nicht ab, wenn auch den Durst 225 
 
 Schattenkiisse, Schattenliebe 219 
 
 Schlage die Trommel und fiirchte dich nicht 257 
 
 Schone, helle, goldne Sterne 62 
 
 Schon mit ihren schlimmsten Schatten 231 
 
 Schone Wiege meiner Leiden 24 
 
 Schone, wirtschaftliche Dame 141 
 
 Schwarze Rocke, seidne Striimpfe 157 
 
 Sei mir gegriisst, du grosse 100 
 
 Seit die Liebste war entfernt 63 
 
 Selten habt ihr mich verstanden 138 
 
 Sie haben dir viel erzahlet 56 
 
 Sie haben heut Abend Gesellschaft 124 
 
 Sie haben mich gequalet 71 
 
 Sie hatten sich beide so herzlich lieb 245 
 
 Sie liebten sich beide, doch keiner no 
 
 Sie sassen und tranken am Theetisch 72 
 
 So hast du ganz und gar vergessen 55 
 
 Solche Biicher lasst du drucken ! 257 
 
 Sorge nie, dass ich verrate 213 
 
 So wandl' ich wieder den alten Weg 101 
 
 Steht ein Baum im schonen Garten 228 
 
 Sterne mit den goldnen Fiisschen 214 
 
 Sternlos und kalt ist die Nacht 175 
 
 Still ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen 101 
 
 Still versteckt der Mond sich draussen 162 
 
Index 287 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Taglich ging die wunderschone 269 
 
 Tannenbaum, mit griinen Fingern 160 
 
 " Teurer Freund, du bist verliebt " 121 
 
 Teurer Freund ! Was soil es nutzen n6 
 
 Thalatta! Thalatta! 187 
 
 Uber die Berge steigt schon die Sonne 140 
 
 Und als ich euch meine Schmerzen geklagt no 
 
 Und als ich so lange, so lange gesaumt 60 
 
 Und bist du erst mein ehlich Weib 133 
 
 Und wiissten's die Blumen, die kleinen 55 
 
 Unser Grab erwarmt der Ruhm 276 
 
 Vergiftet sind meine Lieder 73 
 
 Verlorner Posten in dem Freiheitskriege 277 
 
 Verriet mein blasses Angesicht 121 
 
 Verstummt sind Pauken, Posaunen und Zinken 274 
 
 Vollbliihender Mond ! In deinem Licht 191 
 
 Von schonen Lippen fortgedrangt, getrieben 131 
 
 Vor der Brust die trikoloren 229 
 
 Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass 56 
 
 Was bedeuten gelbe Rosen 264 
 
 Was treibt und tobt mein tolles Blut? 9 
 
 Was will die einsame Thrane 105 
 
 Weil ich so ganz vorziiglich blitze 262 
 
 Welke Veilchen, staub'ge Locken 272 
 
 Wenn der Friihling kommt mit dem Sonnenschein 40 
 
 Wenn ich an deinem Hause 97 
 
 Wenn ich auf dem Lager liege 119 
 
 Wenn ich bei meiner Liebsten bin 21 
 
 Wenn ich, beseligt von schonen Kiissen 224 
 
 Wenn ich in deine Augen seh' 46 
 
 Wenn junge Herzen brechen 26 
 
 Wenn man an dir Verrat geiibt 269 
 
 Wenn zwei von einander scheiden 72 
 
 Werdet nur nicht ungeduldig 116 
 
 Wer zum erstenmale liebt 126 
 
 Wie auf dem Felde die Weizenhalmen 199 
 
 Wie der Mond sich leuchtend dranget 114 
 
 Wie die Mondes Abbild zittert 210 
 
 Wie die Wellenschaumgeborene 52 
 
 Wie dunkle Traume stehen 132 
 
 Wie entwickeln sich doch schnelle 222 
 
 Wie kannst du ruhig schlafen 102 
 
 Wie langsam kriechet sie dahin 274 
 
 Wie rasch du auch voruberschrittest 222 
 
 Wie schandlich du gehandelt 220 
 
 Wir f uhren allein im dunkeln 131 
 
 Wir haben viel fiir einander gefiihlt 58 
 
288 Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Wir miissen zugleich uns betriiben 265 
 
 Wir sassen am Fischerhause 92 
 
 Wir standen an der Strasseneck 227 
 
 Wohl unter der Linde erklingt die Musik 251 
 
 Wo ich bin, mich rings utndunkelt 80 
 
 Wo wird einst des Wandermiiden 277 
 
 Zu dem Wettgesange schreiten 38 
 
 Zu der Lauheit und der Flauheit '. . 127 
 
 Zu fragmentarisch ist Welt und Leben 124 
 
 Zu Halle auf dem Markt 140