I I n 1 H Bl ■ nv ■ ** HI I ■ HI cw I i,»:^ 5-*L I HH : - _-..-; LIBRARY OF CONGRESS; Cljap. J13 ^sT^G UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ..•:?'1" ; ' 'P'-P'fs^ ~*^ ^7 ';*; v*; ''T**V%1?% +?? But now he says, " These vex me not ; Let happen aught on earth that will, Under the churchyard all is still." How quarrelsome his neighbor w^as ! No memory of this he has, But says, " God's mercy may he see, And his a quiet deathbed be." Himself did imperfections mar, But these in death forgotten are ; He says, " From these I now am free. As my heart ever wished to be." He sleeps, and looks at thee no more ; How once he smiled his Godchild o'er ! He says, " God willing, may it be That we in heaven each other see." AGATHA AT THE BIER OF HER GODFATHER. 167 Go, Agatha, and think on this ; An honest man was he, I wis ; Go, dear, from sin and evil keep, Till thou, too, thus in death shalt sleep. GEIBEL. SONG. I am the meadow rose, I ween, In fragrant beauty gleaming ; And thou, love, the clew serene, Within its bosom beaming. I am the jewel, dark, obscure, Just dug from deepest mine ; And thou the sunlight glowing pure, That makes its lustre shine. I am the goblet, crystalline, From which the emperor drinks ; And thou the rich and purple wine, That through it glows and blinks. 172 song. . I am the dark cloud, driving free, And veiling distant skies ; And thou the rainbow, spanning me' With rare and brilliant dyes. I am the Memnon, voiceless, lone, In desert darkness lying ; And thou, within my breast, the tone To rosy morn replying. I am a man, who wanders wide, Through error's gloomy night ; And thou, God's angel, sent to guide My weary steps aright. PEEGOLE SI. Now at last, his work he endeth, And the pious Master sendeth, Grateful thanks to Heaven's throne Then break forth in glorious pealing, Through the temple's lofty ceiling, Holy hymn and organ tone ! Stabat mater dolorosa Juxta crucem lacrymosa, Dum pendebat films, Cujus animam gementem Contristatam ac dolentem Pertransivit gladius. 174 PERGOLESI. And the virgin mother's anguish, Makes each heart with sorrow languish, While the organ louder swells, — Till in music's heavenly tide, Grief itself is satisfied, And the tear of pity wells. Quis est homo, qui non fleret, Christi matrem si videret In tanto supplicio, Quis non posset contristari Piam matrem contemplari Dolentem cum filio. Holy fear and earnest longing, O'er the Master's soul come thronging, Preluding that death is nigh ; Then with faith ecstatic burning, See him to the altar turning, To the Virgin throne'd high. PERGOLESI. 175 Virgo virginum pr^eclara, Mihi jam non sis amara, Fac me tecum plangere, Fac ut portem Christi mortem Passionis ego sortem Et plagas recolere. Hark ! seraphic voices singing, From the heavenly regions bringing Wondrous music down to men ; Holy spirit's earthward fly, Bear the Master's soul on high, And the song ascends again. Fac me cruce custodiri, Morte Christi preemuniri, Confoveri gratia ; Quando corpus morietur, Fac ut animae donetur Paridisi gloria. L ONGING. I look on the world, and I look in my heart, Till the gathering tears from my eyelids start ; Bright shine th the distance, with radiant glow, But the North still detains rae, I cannot go. ! the limits so close, and the world so wide, And so swift is time's tide ! 1 know a far land where, 'mid sunniest green, Near a ruined temple, the vine blooms are seen ; Where, along the shore, the purple wave gleams, And, of coming singers, the laurel-tree dreams ; It allureth my soul, by night and by day, But I cannot away. LONGING. 177 ! had I but wings, how quick would I fly To bathe in the sunlight that fills its blue sky ! Vain longing ! and fife glides so fleetly away ; O'er my lost youth I mourn, and cease my sad lay. ! the limits so close, and the world so wide, And so swift- is time's tide! 12 A RHINE LEGEND. By the Rhine, the broad green river, How softly glows the night ! The vine-clad hills are sleeping, In the moonbeam's golden light. And, on the hillside, walketh A kingly shadow down, With sword and purple mantle, And heavy golden crown. 'Tis Charlemagne, the Emperor, Who, with a powerful hand, For many a hundred years, Hath ruled in German-land. A HEINE LEGEND. 179 The royal tomb forsaking, From Aix lie cometh there, To bless once more Ins vineyards, And breathe their fragrant air. By Rudesheim, on the water, The moon doth brightly shine, And buildeth a bridge of gold, Across the broad green Rhine. The Emperor walketh over, And, all along the tide, Bestows his benediction, On the vineyards far and wide. Then to his grave returneth, In slumber to remain, Till the new year's fragrant clusters Shall lure him forth again. 180 A KHINE LEGEND. But let us fill our glasses, And drink, with the golden wine. The German hero-spirit, And its hero-strength divine. THE MAIDEN'S SONGS T. The purple-streaked carnations, That in my garden shone, Must wither now and perish, For thou art gone ! The flames, that once so brightly, My hearth-stone burned upon, To ashes now are faded, For thou art gone ! No star, no flower greets me, The world is dark and lone ; My heart is wellnigh broken, For thou art gone ! 182 the maiden's songs. II. How sweet were the sunny blue skies, When the trees were all bloomy with May, Ere the lovelight that spake from your eyes, Forever had vanished away. The blossoms are long ago scattered, Chill autumn hath banished sweet May, And cruel neglect, too, hath shattered My beautiful dreams all away. III. Good night, my heart, and slumber on, Through autumn's fading hours ; What canst thou do, the sunshine gone — And all the flowers ! Thy pains, thy joys, alike are dead, The songs of spring are o'er, For thee Love's rose, so purple-red, Shall bloom no more. THE maiden's songs. 183 With carols sweet, the traitor knave To other lands hath gone ; And thou? — Within the quiet grave, Sleep on, sleep on. THE VAYVOD'S DAUGHTER Far, far within the forest shade, A dwelling stands aloof, Cold icicles about the eaves, The deep snow on the roof. And, by the hearth, a maiden sits, Spinning her bridal tire, While down the chimney moans the wind, And stirs the flickering fire. In walks the Wood-witch, who doth e'er But evil tidings bring ; " Good even, pretty maid, to thee A little song I'll sing." the vatvod's daughter. 185 " What are thy little songs to me ? My lover soon will come ; There 's bread and beer, take what you will, And haste thee to thy home." Back spake the crone, " There 's time enough, He ne'er will come again, The wood is deep, the way is long, Another path he 's ta'en." " Why fright me with imagined woe ? My lover true will be ; He swore it, till, from out the snow, A rose should bloom for me." Thus answered she, yet anxious grew, And heard the wind with fear ; And still the crone remained, and sang These dread words in her ear : 186 the vayvod's daughter. "As through the lonely dell I passed, Three savage wolves outsprung; Each howled as from a merry feast, And showed a bloody tongue. " And when the grove of pines I trod, I heard three ravens cry, — Our little ones shall have indeed A rare treat bye and bye. "And when I reached the frozen lake, A young man there I found ; On every side his blood poured out, From many a ghastly wound. " Thus from the winter snow so cold, A rose hath bloomed, you see ; The way is long, the wood is deep, He ne'er will come to thee." the vayvod's daughter. 187 The voice was still — the crone had gone — The fire no longer glowed ; Speechless the maiden sitteth there, How wan her pale cheeks showed ! And louder jet the ravens screamed, Whistled the wind more wild ; And, e'er three days, the Vayvod mourned Above his buried child. WHEN TWO HEARTS PART FOREVER When two hearts part forever, Which once did fondly love, No greater anguish ever Could all the spirit move. sad word, ringing o'er and o'er, Farewell, farewell, foreverniore ! When first it dawned upon me, That love could fade away, It was as though, from heaven, The sun should fall by day ; So strangely rang it o'er and o'er, Farewell, farewell, forevermore ! WHEN TWO HEARTS PART FOREVER. 189 My life's sweet spring hath vanished ; Ah ! why so quickly flown ? The lip once warm with kisses, Hath cold and silent grown. This only, clearly spake she o'er, Farewell, farewell, forevermore ! DANTE. Through Verona's streets, great Dante Sad and lonely walked one day, Whom the Florentines had banished From his father-land away. Heard he then a little maiden, When she saw him passing by, Speaking to her younger sister, Who by chance was sitting nigh ; ■ — "Look! there goes the poet, Dante, Who descended into hell ; Mark ! how, on his gloomy forehead, Pain and anguish seem to dwell. DANTE. 191 " For within that realm of sorrow, On such dread things did he look, That, with terror filled, forever Smiles of joy his face forsook." Turning then, the voice of Dante On the silence calmly fell, " Smiles of joy to lose forever, Needs it not descend to hell. " All the grief, the pain, I sang of, All that can the spirit wound, Here, upon this earth already, Have I now in Florence found." THE MORNING WALK. Let him rise at break of day, Who would wander free from care, Then the wood is still alway, Not a breeze doth rustle there. E'en the lark is sleeping still, Only 'mid the grass some rill Softly sings its morning prayer. Nature, like a volume lies, Where, in lines of every hue, Many a sentence meets our eyes, Telling God is ever true. Leaf and flower, near and far, And the silver morning-star, Of his kindness witness too. THE MORNING WALK. 193 Then do aspirations high All the soul to heaven raise, To the heart love cometh nio-h. Softly comes and knocks always, — Knocking till its gates unclose, And the mouth with song o'erflows, Full of loud, exultant praise. Suddenly the nightingale From the copse his song doth fling; .Echo wakes o'er hill and dale, Soaring up on joyous wing ; And the morning's rosy ray Joins with fiery glow to say, — Let us all God's praises sing ! 13 THE TWO ANGELS. Know' ST thou, my heart, the sister-angel pair, Sent down to earth from holy realms above — Peace-giving Friendship, with her lilies fair, And, crowned with roses, soul-enkindling Love ? Dark-haired is Love, in brilliant vesture glowing, Beauteous as spring, quick budding on the hill ; Friendship, fair-haired, in softer colors showing, And like the summer night, so mild and still. Love is a stormy sea, upon whose breast, A thousand waves in ceaseless tumult move ; Friendship, a mountain lake, where calmly rest The clear reflections of the heavens above. . THE TWO ANGELS. 195 Love cometli quick, as lightning's sudden glare, — But Friendship, like the moonbeam's glimmering light; Love, to possess and hold, will all things dare, While Friendship asketh, though she claims no right. • heart, thrice happy heart, in which forever The two, in friendly intercourse abide, And where the rose's ardent flame may never The lily's soft and modest beauty hide. GAZE NOT ON ME. Gaze not on me so tenderly, Thou roselet fair, thou slender roe, That glance delighting all, to me But bringeth grief and bitter woe. Sadder my heart grows ever, Beneath thy friendly eye, For love's fond dream forever Hath passed me by. 0! were I young and blithe as thou, So full of life and purity, With what deep joy and rapture now Would this glad heart respond to thee ! What blissful dreams each hour Would then enweave for me ! But ah ! who looks for flower On withered tree ? GAZE NOT ON ME. 197 My life hath reached its evening-red, Thine basketh in morn's golden raj : My heart is cold, my heart is dead, Thine beateth in youth's jocund play. Far in the distance burneth The star that lures thee on, But back my spirit turneth, To days long gone. Then gaze not thou so tenderly, roselet fair ! slender roe ! That glance delighting all, to me But bringeth grief and bitter woe. Let me depart, a rover O'er every land and wave ; Thou 'It find a dearer lover, And I — a grave ! FRIEDEICH ROTH BART Far within the lone Kyffhauser, With a lamp red glimmering by, Sits the aged Emperor, Frederick, At a marble table nigh. Covered with a purple mantle, And in armor glancing bright, Still upon his moveless eyelids Lieth slumber's heavy night. On his features, calm yet earnest, Love and sternness each is shown, And his beard, so long and golden, Through the marble stone hath grown. FRIEDRICH ROTHBART. 199 Here, like brazen statues standing, All his knights their lord surround, Sword begirt, in armor gleaming, But like him in slumber bound. Henry, he of Ofterdingen, 'Mid the silent ranks is there, With his lips so skilled in singing, And his yellow curling hair. By his side his harp reclineth, Like its master, voiceless now, But a coming song is sleeping Yet, upon his noble brow. All is silent, save the moisture, Dropping slowly from the wall, Silent, till the appointed morning Breaks in glory over all. 200 FRIEDBJCH ROTHBART. Till the eagle's mighty pinions, Round the mountain-summit play, At whose rush the swarming ravens, Quick affrighted, flee away. Comes a sound like far-off thunder, Rolling through the mountain then, And the Emperor grasps his sword-hilt, And the knights awake again. Loud upon its hinges sounding, Open springs the brazen door, Barbarossa and his followers Walk in bright array once more. On his helm, the crown he beareth, And the sceptre in his hand, Swords are glancing, harps are ringing, Where he moveth through the land. FRIED RICH ROTHBART. 201 All before the monarch bending, Render him the homage clue, And the holy German Empire Foundeth he at Aix anew. AT A FEAST. ! fill up the goblets with Cyprian wine, Till blinks through the crystal its purple-hued shine ; Then hastily quaff of the short-lived delight, — So fleeting 's love's kiss, so swift is youth's flight. The roses are blushing with odorous gleam, The stars sparkle bright in the depths of the stream ; But roses and starlight we reckon less high Than the bloom of the cheek, the light of the eye. Through leaf-shaded bowers, the colored lights glance, Where moves 'neath the foliage melodious the dance ; AT A FEAST. 203 Round the form of the fair one, close twineth each arm, And, with glances responsive, each heart throbbeth warm. Such riot ! such kissing ! while, gliding o'erhead, The moon on the earth her brilliance doth shed ; Be happy ! but when the gay lights flicker low, Who can tell whether love will not vanish also ? I too once confided in love and in truth, Believing the promise of spring-time and youth ; The storm-winds of autumn around me did roar, I looked for the flowers — but found them no more. Then hastily quaff from the goblet's bright flow, Catch quick what the swift passing hours bestow, Enjoying these moments while haply they stay, For ah! love will vanish — and youth fade away. EVENING SONG OF A WEARY ONE The evening red hath left the sky, From far a voice is ringing ; 'Tis death, perhaps, who cometh nigh To lull me with his singing. Sing to me now, ! songster, thou, Thy gentle peace quick bringing. A downy bed the turf will prove, Cool cypress murmuring o'er, For there the past, with all its love, Can never vex me more. Nor joy nor worth, 1 leave on earth, For grief was all my store. EVENING SONG OF A WEARY ONE. 205 Farewell ! thou weary world, to me Thy charms as nought do seem, The loss of all that pleaseth thee, But happiness I deem. And now the night, Comes soft and light, Oh ! let me rest and dream. SPRING SONGS. I. Spring is a hero, bold and keen, A knight of peerless bearing, The red rose, on a field of green, For arms and token wearing. He swung with strong and ceaseless stroke, His sword of sunbeams gay, And soon the silver mail he broke, Of winter's cold array. And now, with sweet, triumphant song, He moves o'er sea and vale, Before him, sending first along The herald nightingale. SPRING SONGS. 207 His summons, jubilant and clear, Resounds on every side, And all who hear it, far and near, Their hearts must open wide ; — Must open wide to him, I ween, Nor dare his claims disprove, And homage pay to his fair Queen, The gentle Queen of Love. II. ! wherefore is the spring so fair, With perfume, light, and song, Since, carolling o'er hill and plain, So swift he hastes along ? 208 • SPRING SONGS. And wherefore is the dream so sweet, That first-love weaves alway, Since, quicker than the blossom frail, It ever fades away ? And yet such warmth it leaves behind, So rich the heart doth seem, That, to have drunk of this pure fount, Fate's kindliest gift, I deem. All happiness the heart can know Was mine, through love's brief day ; Its sun hath set beneath the vale, Now let aught come that may. Or bitter pain, or joy renewed, Alike endured shall be, For memory of the happy past Can ne'er be ta'en from me. SPRING SONGS. 209 ni. From out yon tent of clouds, the sun Darts forth his sudden beams ; Through wood and vale soft murmurs run Of leaves and babbling streams. As melt away the ice and snow, Green grows the hamlet o'er, And the warm south wind whispers low,— " Wake violets, wake once more." gentle sounds that fill the plain! first sweet breath of spring ! Now blooms and sings the earth again, And all my soul doth sing. 14 210 SPRING SONGS. While, day by day, the heavens we see. In softer azure drest, I prithee, say, what causeth me This longing and unrest ? So full, so full, my heart doth seem, As though it bloomed anew ; Returnest thou, Youth's sweet dream ? Returnest thou, Love, too ? CITA MORS RUIT. A rider swift is Death, I ween, Fleeter than morning's rosy sheen, Or lightning's vivid dart; His steed is pale, no bridle knows, His bow resounds, the arrow goes Unerring to the heart. Through city vast, through hamlet low, In morning's red or evening's glow, O'er mount and vale, he flies ; And, following in his course, we hear The church bells tolling loud and clear, And burial dirges rise. 212 CITA MORS RUIT. Into the palace proud he roams; How pale the haughty guest becomes! Quick leaves he love and wines. The wedding feast he walks about, A cold gust blows the tapers out, Pallid the bride reclines. A look upon the judge he takes, And ere the white death-wand he breaks, It falleth at his feet. A maiden twineth leaf and rose ; He draweth near, how sad she grows ! Who will the wreath complete ? Then mortal, be of lowly mind, To Death, as chaff before the wind, Thy feeble strength is like. The sands run fast, life's hour is brief, And, ere a breath can stir this leaf, Thy passing hour may strike. ONWARD. Cease this dreaming ! Cease this trembling ! Still, unwearied, struggle on ; Though thy strength should almost fail thee, Onward, be the word alone. Dare not tarry, though the present Scatter roses in thy way ; Though to thee, from out the ocean, Syrens sing their luring lay. Onward ! Onward ! "With thy singing, 'Gainst the world's sharp griefs contend, Till upon thy cheeks' hot burning, Golden rays from heaven descend: 214 ONWARD. Till thy brow, the thick-leaved garland, Like a halo, shall surround ; Till the Spirit's flame, all brightly, Hovering o'er thee shall be found. Onward ! then, through all opposing, Onward ! still, through death's dark pain, He must wrestle on, unyielding, Who the bliss of Heaven would gain. THE MAIDEN IN HADES. Oh ! happy are the verdant meadow-lands, And happy are the lofty mountain-peaks, That never may on gloomy Hades look. Cold winter comes to sparkle them with frost, Or cover them with flaky drifts of snow ; Cometh the springtime, greening them anew, With fragrant flowers and aromatic herbs, And the bright sunlight slumbering over all ; But ne'er in Hades doth the sunlight break, To drive the shadowy darkness far away. It chanced upon a time, three giants swore To penetrate the hidden realm of shades, And going down the dark and gloomy way, Three weary days and nights they wandered on, Until they reached the kingdom of the dead. 216 THE MAIDEN IN HADES. But when the dreary land they had explored, And 'gan to turn them to the light again, There came a maiden, fair and beautiful, With golden hair and cheeks all snowy pale, Imploring thus, with sweet and mournful voice : " ! take me back with you, ye giants dear, That I may once again behold the sun, And the red flowerets blooming on the plain." To whom the mighty giants answer made ; — " Thy silken garments rustle round thy limbs, Thy long fair hair floats whispering in the wind, And on thy feet thy sandals echoes raise ; We cannot take thee back, maiden fair, Lest Charon, the grim ferryman, detect us." Again, with sweet sad voice, the maiden spake " These silken garments will I lay aside, These flowing locks will sever from my head, And leave my sandals here upon the stairs ; Then take me back with you, giants dear, That I may see again my brothers twain, How by the hearth they sit bewailing me ; THE MAIDEN IN HADES. 217 That I may hear my mother's sad complaints, Weeping within the cottage smoke-begrimed, For me, her darling daughter, ta'en away." And once again the giants answer made ; — " Remain content, among the pale-faced shades ; In song and wine thy brothers pass the day, While gossips in the street thy mother dear alway." KING POET. The poet stands, with magic wand, Upon his cloud-girt throne, And, looking down on sea and land, Beholdeth every zone. From far and near, to grace his hymn, He seeks the fairest, best ; With richest offerings, on him, Attend both east and west. By golden fountains, causeth he The Arab palm to grow ; And, 'neath the fragrant linden-tree, The violet to blow. KING POET. 219 The rose revealeth, at his nod, Her rarest purple sweets ; And, glimmering on the azure flood, The moon the lotus greets. He sinketh down to deepest mine, Diveth to ocean's springs, From whence the ruby's ruddy shine, \ The purest pearls, he brings. Its music to the swan he gives ; Bids nightingale outgush ; And, in his song, he proudly weaves Both morn and evening's flush. He makes the wide and boundless sea With billowy waves to move ; Yea, sun and moon and stars doth he Create in heaven above. 220 KING POET. And, all alike, in every way Would him as monarch greet ; While he his mighty realm doth lay, At the beloved's feet. GONDOLA SONG. ! come to me, when silently The silver stars are gliding, And, gently, on the moonlit sea, Our gondola is riding. Like love's sweet breath, the soft winds are, Bright shines the golden moon ; And list! from far the light guitar Rings out its merry tune. ! come to me, when silently The silver stars are gliding, And, gently, on the moonlit sea, Our gondola is riding. This is the hour for those who love, Dearest, like thee and me ; 222 GONDOLA SONG. So tranquil bend the heavens above, So tranquil sleeps the sea. And, while it sleeps, thy looks reveal What words may never tell ; My lips from thine sweet kisses steal, Thine answer back as well. ! come to me, when silently The silver stars are gliding, And, gently, on the moonlit sea, Our gondola is riding. THE PAGE. Since, as vain dreams, I must banish All the hopes that filled my breast, Let me only kiss the threshold, Which thy fairy foot hath prest. Since, as knight and equal, never May I happy near thee wend, Let me, as thy page, still ever To the mass thy steps attend. I will be discreet and faithful, Daily watch thy slightest nod, Nightly at thy threshold lying, Though the tempest howls abroad ; 224 THE PAGE. Every morn, with modest greeting, Dewy roses to thee bring, At thy feet, each evening sitting, To my lute sweet music sing; Bridle too thy snow-white courser, When to early hunt you'd ride, Through the forest spaces, bearing Spear and falcon at thy side. In the path of love, to serve thee, All alert my feet shall prove ; At the gate with drawn sword guarding, While you kiss the friend you love. Doing all without a murmur, Asking nothing, loud or low, If, when all is done, as guerdon, But a smile you will bestow ; THE PAGE. 225 When thine eye, a star of blessing, Guiding all my onward way, But a single glance doth deign me, From thy bright sphere far away. 15 THE STAG AND ROE. Where the fir-trees rustle gently, On Olympus' lofty crown, Stands a stag beside a fountain, On the valley looking down. Tears he sheddeth, gushing tear-drops, Large as berries, red as blood, As a lover oft-times poureth, From his eyes, the bitter flood. Comes a roe towards him springing, — Little roe with spotted hide, Sees the gushing tear-drops falling, On the grass the fount beside ; THE STAG AND ROE. 227 Asks, " why such tears art shedding, Large as berries, red as blood, As a lover oft-times poureth, From his eyes, the bitter flood ? " " In the vale, the Turks are marching, For, as up the mount I sprang, I did see their sabres glancing, Heard their drum-beat's rolling clang ; Heard I, too, a mighty baying, For, to speed the hunt they sought, From Constantinople city, Sixty hounds with them they brought." Says the roe, " That grieves me little, Limbs have I both strong and good, O'er each cliff to spring with safety, Safe to swim through every flood; And the Klephts upon the mountain, Arms and ammunition have, Turks and hounds to drive together, Far into the foaming wave." 228 THE STAG AND ROE. But, when day gave place to evening, In the dust the roe did lay, On her spotted hide the blood-drops, And her flesh the fierce hound's prey. And ere morn again had broken, Lo ! the stately stag was caught, And the Turks laughed scorn at any Tidings of the Klephts who sought. FAR AWAY. Tell nie, my heart, deceived and passion-torn, What mean these longings, ceaseless, undefined ? Can'st thou, poor heart, so many sorrows borne, A rest ne'er find ? Thy youth is fled, its sweets forever gone, The purple blooms have fallen from life's bough ; And ah ! love's blissful hopes, so bright that shone, Are vanished now. The blooms have fallen, but the thorns remain, From whose deep wounds the life-blood ever flows, And now but idle longings and wild pain My spirit knows. 230 FAR AWAY. And jet, should some one bring me Lethe's wave, And bid me, " Drink, and thou shalt quickly know The rest, the peace, forgetfulness may have," I'd answer, no. Though o'er the past's dim, faded dream I mourn, So fair it was, so full of bliss did prove, That even now, within my heart forlorn, I still must love. Upon my weary way, then let me go, Some resting-place to seek, by night and day, Where, with my dying song, life's love and woe To breathe away. FAREWELL. This parting cup, I drink to thee, Thou beauteous foreign strand, Yet mournfully, for thou to me Art dear as native land. Farewell ! farewell ! our white sails feel The breezes o'er them play, And, swiftly now, our boat's sharp keel Ploughs through the emerald way. The sun sinks in the island-mere, The heavens are rosy-red, And yonder gleams the cottage, where Our parting words were said. Beloved, how gladly would I rest Forever on thy heart ! 232 FAREWELL. In vain ; and from my longing breast This sweet dream must depart. ! such is life. To come, to go, The sport of wave and wind ; To meet, to part for aye, nor know Where certain rest to find ; To be beloved, forgotten be ; To love — sad heart, be still, The evening glory blindeth me, My eyes with tear-drops fill. 'Tis past. My dream of love is o'er ; Its joys, its pains are gone ; And now, within the world once more, This wild heart beats alone. So let it be ! Now, o'er the sea, The new moon glimmers bright ; The shore recedes, — beloved, to thee, I breathe this last good-night. GIP SE Y LIFE. Deep hid in the wood, 'neath the beeches' still , shade, A moving, a rustling, a whisp'ring is made, And flames crackle brightly, whose brilliance is thrown On forms gay apparelled, on green leaf and stone. A wandering tribe of the gipseys is there, With eyes wildly glancing and long waving hair ; Brought forth where the Nile floweth sacredly by, But tanned by the fierceness of Spain's sunny sky. Bound the nickering blaze, on the mosses' soft green, The men are reclining, all savage and keen, While, busily working, the women prepare Their food, and replenish each goblet with care. 234 GIPSEY LIFE. Like a garden of Spain, as blooming and gay, With laughter and music they talk and they play, While mystical answers, of loss or of fear, A crone utters loud to the crowd waiting near. The maidens, so dark-eyed, begin then the dance, Where glimmer the torches with rosy-red glance ; Clear rings the guitar with the cymbal's loud tone, As wilder and wilder the dance rusheth on. Till, silent and weary, in slumber they lie, Above them the beech leaves, soft murmuring nigh ; And now, through the wide world doomed ever to rove, They visit in sweet dreams the land of their love. Yet when in the gray east the morning light gleams, Forgotten is night and its beautiful dreams ; Loud paweth each mule at the breaking of day, The gay forms move onward, ah ! whither away ? O YOUTH. youth ! thou green and sunny bower, Where love its fragrant rose doth rear ! The rustling of thy leaves no more, Alas! no more, as erst I hear; The heart, song-full to overflow, The trusting glance, the fearless brow, The poet-soul, with hope aglow, ! say, ! say, where are they now ? Too soon there came a darker day, When doubts 'gan creep into my breast, When love's fond dreams all fled away, And joy no more remained my guest. And now the future, to my view, No longer wears its wonted gold, 236 YOUTH. I only see the sombre hue Of dark clouds, round its mountains rolled. Yet patient be ! Though time hath ta'en The blossoms of thy spring away, I know 'mid loneliness and pain, The ripening fruit matures alway. A longing, which can ne'er depart, In this sad bosom lives and grows, As, in the sea-shell's secret heart, The pearl its deepening lustre shows. No more despair my soul can shake, To this I'll cling through grief and pain ; And, if the strife my heart should break, Then shall this longing, wings attain, And boldly mount aloft with me, Down dropping music like a shower, And gently bear me home to thee, ! youth, thou green and sunny bower ! SONGS. I. Abe the bright stars tender lambkins, Which, when daylight shines no more, Night, the gentle shepherdess, Leads o'er heaven's azure floor ? Or are they pure silver lilies, Dropping from their cups of snow, Delicate and slumb'rous fragrance, On the weary world below ? Or are they but gleaming tapers, On the altar beaming bright, When the ample dome of heaven, Dusky is with holy night ? 238 songs. "No, they are but silver letters. Myriad messages of love, Written, by the gentle angels, In the azure book above. II. The quiet lotus-lily Floats on the lakelet blue, Its soft leaves glow and glisten. Its cup of snowy hue.' The fair moon smileth on her, Through all the summer night, And, on her fragrant bosom, Pours clown her golden light. songs. 239 Over the rippling water, Glideth a snow-white swan, He singeth, sweet and softly, The lily gazing on ; — He singeth sweet and softly, It is his death-song's flow, ! flower, snow-white flower, Dost thou its meaning know ? III. At eve, when o'er the rosy sea, The sunset faded more and more, We wandered 'neath the beechen tree That stands beside the lonely shore. 240 SONGS. We saw the fair moon rise, and heard, From distant groves, the nightingale ; Breathed the sweet air, but spake no word, For what can words the heart avail ? Oh! these are idle to express The love they only serve to hide, The tender glance, the mute caress, With these the heart is satisfied. IV. Thou gentle eve of spring-time, How sweet thy moments are ! Yon clouded skies above us, With here and there a star ! SONGS. 241 Like the tender breath of love, '•> The soft airs play around, And the sunny smell of violets Perfumeth all the ground. I would compose a lyric, In beauty like to thee, But find no words so tender, So full of melody. Would I might die as dies the swan, Who, o'er the lakelet slowly winging, While on his azure pathway borne, Breathes life away in sweetest singing. 16 .242 songs. His song is hushed, when from each hill, With golden kiss, the sunset waneth ; Yet, all night long, its echo still, In bush and murmuring tree, remaineth. ! might such happiness be mine, So singing, would that death might find me, That I some echo sweet, divine, In Father-land might leave behind me. But only to the few belong This richest boon to mortals given ; Upon my lips, no deathless song Shall bear me on its wings to heaven. But, I shall vanish voicelessly, In silence to the dark grave going, And undisturbed my rest shall be, The world no thought on me bestowing. songs. 243 VI. Biedling, whither now, I pray ? " Northward far I wing my way ; There the sun shines warm and clear, 'Tis the spring-time of the year." Birdling, when, on mottled wing, 'Mid the linden leaves, you sing, Where my gentle love doth dwell, Tell her, that, by night and day, Lives she in my heart alway ; Tell her, that I love her well. And the flowerets of the plain, Kiss them o'er and o'er again. 244 songs. YII. Golden bridges, truly, Are all songs to me, Over which love wanders, Dearest one, to thee. And my dreams' light wings, Still, in joy or pain, Bear me, every night, To thy heart again. vm. Love, amid the roses, sang, Like a nightingale ; Passing sweet the music rang, Over wood and vale. songs. 245 While he sang, the fragrance there Rose from myriad flowers ; Softly sighed the enamored air, Through the leafy bowers. Silently, adown the hill, Crept the listening stream ; And the little fawn stood still, Still, as in a dream. And ever, near and nearer, ' Gleamed the gold-red sun; And clearer still and clearer, On flower and greenwood shone. I, too, chanced that way along, Hearing Love's sweet tone ; And, forevermore, my song Echoes love alone. 246 songs. IX. When with sap the grapevine swells, Comes the roaming swallow; When the eye with sorrow wells, Love will quickly follow. Tender leaf and blossom fair, Open day by day ; Maiden, of thy heart take care, Lest it steal away ! X. Will no one tell me, pray, Why throbs this heart of mine ? What aileth me, I cannot say, Cannot divine. songs. 247 As in a vague dream, wanders My restless soul in me ; On thee alone it ponders, Alone on thee. The world is nothing to me, Since first I met thine eye ; Would I might clasp thee to me. Kiss thee and die. From fife I'd gladly go, For but one smile from thee ; And thou — no cause I know — Refusest me. Is't fate or thine own will, That from me all hope takes ? Flow, flow, my tears, until This sad heart breaks. 248 songs. XL A wreath of corn-flowers I will place Amid thy ringlets fair ; So brightly shows its azure grace Upon thy golden hair. I dearly love this garland blue, It ever speaks of thee ; And tells me, none could be so true As thou art, love, to me. And, gazing on its hue, that is So like the heavens above, I dream of all the perfect bliss I find within thy love. songs. 249 xn. My heart is like the gloomy night, When winds through tree-tops roar ; Then comes the moon, in splendor bright, And, 'neath her light, See, how the tossing boughs are still and calm once more ! Thou art the silver moon to me, And, when, in thy pure eyes, The tender glance of love, I see, Wild passions flee, And all my restless soul in slumb'rous quiet lies. XIII. Look on yon sea. Upon its surface glows The sunshine bright, 250 SONGS. But far within its depths, where pearls repose, Is deepest night. That sea am I. Wild, billowy passions sway My restless soul ; While, on the waves, my songs like sunbeams play, And gild the whole. They glimmer oft with pleasure's magic art, With love and jest ; But, silently, bleeds on my gloomy heart, Deep in my breast. XIV. The roses bloom no longer, But lilies deck the field, SONGS. 251 O'er which the sky is bending Its azure-beaming shield. Go thou too, Love, forever, With all thy pleasing pain, That, hi my breast may glimmer The light of peace again. Now, free from restless longing, What joy the world doth yield ; The roses bloom no longer, But lilies deck the field. XY. Heart of mine, no longer mourn, From thee cast this yoke aside ; Much already hast thou borne, Even this thou canst abide. 252 SONGS. On, in shining armor, go, ! my spirit, and be free ; Nought avails it sighing so, Like a lover piningly. Though thy breast with anguish bleeds, Onward press, without delay; Sings the swan among the reeds, Sweetest, when life ebbs away. XVI. Often has my mother told me, That, — behind yon mountain high. Round whose lofty summit ever, Clouds and vapors linger nigh, — Grows the plant they call oblivion, Hidden in the hollows lone : songs. 253 Knew I but the pathway thither, Day and night I'd wander on, And would quickly pluck its leaflets, Drinking them in ruby wine ; Till thy love I had forgotten, And those false, false vows of thine, And the eyes which once, so often, Spake to me with tender shine, And the lips so full of sweetness, Once so fondly pressed to mine. xvn. A wasting fire creepeth Thro' every vein ; Close as my shadow keepeth This weary pain. 254 songs. I hear the slow hours ring, So mournfully ; They come, they go, but bring No change to me. The summer passeth by, Dream-like I ween ; The wild rose bloometh nigh, By me unseen. Singe th the nightingale, In wood and plain ; Cease, cease thy warbling wail, 'Tis all in vain. This mournful truth alone I feel alway ; That thou from me art gone, Far, far away. Close as my shadow keepeth This weary pain ; A wasting fire creepeth Thro' every vein. songs. 255 XVIII. Once, day and night, without control, I wept with grief and pain ; But now, I weep because my soul Cannot its joy contain. For in my breast, without alloy, The bliss of Heaven appears ; Thus deepest grief and highest joy Find utterance each in tears. XIX. Now I hold thee, face to face, Clasped within my warm embrace, From these dewy lips of thine, Quaffing kisses all divine. 256 songs. Fortune now hath nothing more, In her rich and ample store, Nothing half so sweet to me, As the joy I find in thee. What care I, though darkest night Covers all things from my sight ? Still I find, within thine eyes, All the light of starry skies. EALLERSLEBEN 17 SONGS The green leaves rustle far and near, The flowerets bloom again, And, from the nightingale, I hear The old delicious strain. ! happy he whose heart may feel The bliss that springtime doth reveal! Thro' wood and field I'd gladly go, And with the wild birds sing, While thus, with happiness, I know The whole wide world doth ring. But why for song and floweret care, Since thou art wanting everywhere ? 260 SONGS. friend beloved ! and shall I see Thy gentle face no more ? Then is the springtime lost to me, Its joy, its beauty o'er. For ah ! what pleasure can there be, What is a springtime without thee ? II. See how this hyacinth doth grow, Unhurt by wintry storms and snow, Serenely smiling all around, When other blossoms dead are found. Thus may thy heart, so full of love, O'er life's fierce tempests victor prove ; And thou, when youth's bright dreams are o'er Still smile serene like this sweet flower. SONGS. 261 III. Would I might with the swallows fly, Or with yon cloudlet in the sky, O'er hill and vale to haste away, Swift as the winge*d wind to-day, That I might see and ask of thee., So tenderly, so lovingly, " Hast ne'er a greeting, sweet, for me ? " Still on this cool green bank I rest, — May-blossoms falling on my breast, A ring-dove softly cooing nigh, — And let my dreamy glances fly Far o'er the Rhine, to where I see The earth and sky blend distantly, And think of thee, and think of thee ; — And with the swallows long to fly, Or with yon cloudlet in the sky, 262 songs. O'er hill and vale to haste away, Swift as the winged wind to-day, That I might see and ask of thee, So tenderly, so lovingly, " Hast ne'er a greeting, sweet, for me ? " IV. Long time, as one in death, I lay, But now awake to life and day, And once again, with cheerful voice, I sing, and in my heart rejoice. It was thy blue eyes' gentle light, Thy tresses darker than the night, And {he sweet kiss thy ripe lips gave, That lured me from the darksome grave. songs. 263 V. Every thing is still and cold, Snowflakes cover field and wold 'Neath the ice, with muffled song, Creeps the rivulet along. Crushed to earth's each lifeless flower, Silent now each wild-wood bower, And the sun moves on its way, Veiled in dark clouds, day by day. Ah! thus feebly beats my heart, Underneath its sorrow's smart, And no more love's sunny beam O'er my life doth brightly gleam. 264 songs. VI. What care I, whether snow falls To-morrow or to-day ? Or whether gentle springtime Drives winter soon away ? 'When thy sweet eyes smile on me, With joy all nature glows, And quick, my heart's deep longing Doth blossom like the rose. VII. Yes, thou art mine. I'll tell it to the azure sky, songs. 265 At morn, at noon, at dusky night, And bid the blissful tidings fly, O'er wood and vale and mountain height, — Till, far and near, All things shall hear That thou art mine, Forever mine ! Yes, thou art mine. My heart, thy home, henceforth shall flow Its fondest, purest hopes for thee, And thou, by love enshrined, shalt know How full of joy this life can be, — While thus I rest Upon thy breast, And thou art mine, Forever mine ! ANONYMOUS. "OUR FATHER." To the memory of Charles Armand Scheibler, who was lost in the ill-fated Arctic, this translation of his favorite hymn is inscribed. When with pain and anguish torn, All thy heart is filled with sorrow, — When in solitude you mourn, And despair no hope can borrow, — Turn above thy weeping eyes, Pray to Him who rules the skies. Pray not as the heathen do, Idle repetitions making ; God, the merciful, doth know Every sigh, tho' faintly breaking ; As our Saviour taught when here, Humbly pray, and God will hear: 270 " OUR FATHER." " Father, who in heaven above, Lord of all forever reignest, — ■ Yet, to those who trust thy love, Gracious answers ever deignest, — May thy name and glory be Hallowed thro' eternity. " May thy kingdom come, Lord, Here on earth as 'tis in Heaven, And thy sovereign will adored, Full obedience to it given ; By thy constant bounty fed, Give us day by day our bread, " Feeling our infirmity, And in love and meekness growing, May we kind, forbearing be, Patience to our neighbor showing ; That, as we his faults forgive, We thy pardon may receive. " OUR FATHER." 271 " Lest we e'er should go astray, Shield us in temptation's hour ; Evil lusts to put away, Ever grant the needed power; Guide our feet thy paths within, Make us free from every sin." He who thus, with earnest call, To the Father humbly prayeth, And in Jesus asketh all, His "Amen," with gladness sayeth; Amen ! yes, so shall it be, All thus asked is granted thee. BALLAD. O'er the foamy waters fly Galleys four from Barbary, Swift pursuing, as their prey, Spanish galleon on its way. Newly wedded, two are seen, O'er the galleon's side to lean ; He, Malliorca's noblest heir, She, Valencia's fairest fair. Rippling light, the wavelets dance Bound the rowers' slow advance, For the gentle winds avail Scarce to swell the fluttering sail. BALLAD. 273 " Blow, ye breezes, blow once more, Waft us to Malliorca's shore, — To Love's home, beyond the deep, There our nuptial feast to keep ! " Soon, above the azure floor, Loonieth up the well-known shore, And, with joyous hearts, they stand, Gazing towards the father-land. Ah ! but what are these so near ? Now the Moorish galleys steer Down upon the galleon's way, Like fierce tigers on their prey ! Don Fernando draws his sword, — He alone of all on board, — For, in ghastly terror bound, Trembling stand the crew around. 18 274 BALLAD. Clasped hands for help imploring, Silver drops of anguish pouring Down her cheeks so rosy-fair, . Don Fernando's bride kneels there. Nearer still the galleys dark Close around the fated bark, As a falcon in the sky, Circling round the dove doth fly. " Holy mother, help us now ! To thy children pity show ; Shield the dear one at my side, Save, oh ! save, my gentle bride ! " See ye not their sabres gleam ? Hear ye not their taunting scream ? Ho, ye christian dogs, it saith, Choose ye, slavery or death ! BALLAD. 275 " Mary heedeth not our cry, Conies no succor from the sky, — Shall we live, their slaves to be ? Rather death for thee and me!" Swiftly from the vessel's side Leaps Fernando with his bride — And the sea above them rolls. God have mercy on their souls ! JOY AND PAIN. Near the cradle of each mortal, Joy and Pain together glide ;• Nurses are they at life's portal, Ever after by his side. On the right, if Joy is glowing, On the left, still beckons Pain ; Till the three, together flowing, Vanish in Time's solemn main. THE END. ■ ■ I i HHran __■ y:< MS s m 1 1 o* ■ 7VY* I I Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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