With vigour encircles anon,
And clasps and twines round the elated
And happy Laocoon.
14.
Swear not at all, but only kiss!
All woman’s oaths I hold amiss;
Thy word is sweet, but sweeter far
The kisses that my guerdon are.
These keep I, while thy words but seem
A passing cloud, or fragrant dream.
* * * * *
Now then, my loved one, swear away!
I’ll credit all that thou dost say;
And when I sink upon thy breast,
I’ll think that I am truly blest;
I’ll think that, love, eternally
And even longer, thou’lt love me.
15.
Upon my mistress’s eyes so clear
I write the fairest cantatas;
Upon my mistress’s mouth sincere
I write the best of terzinas;
Upon my mistress’s cheeks so dear
I write the cleverest stanzas;
And had my mistress a heart, upon it
I soon would write a charming sonnet.
16.
The world’s an ass, the world can’t see,
And grows more stupid daily:
It says, my darling child, of thee,--
Thou livest far too gaily.
The world’s an ass, the world can’t see,
Thy character not knowing;
It knows not how sweet thy kisses be,
How rapturously glowing.
17.
Loved one--gladly would I know it,--
Art thou but a vision fair,
Such as in his brain the poet
Loves in summer to prepare?
No! such eyes of magic splendour,
Lips so rosy and so warm,
Such a child, so sweet and tender,
Never did the poet form.
Basilisks and vampires gory,
Dragons, monsters of the earth,
Suchlike evil beasts of story
In the poet’s fire have birth.
But thyself, thy wiles insidious,
And thy face, so sweet and staid,
And thy kindly looks perfidious,--
These the poet never made.
18.
Gleams my love in beauty’s splendour,
Like the child of ocean foam;
As his bride my mistress tender
Is a stranger taking home.
Though ’tis treason, don’t abuse it,
Heart, thou much-enduring one!
Bear it, bear it, and excuse it,
What the beauteous fool hath done.
19.
I’ll not be angry, though my heart should break,
Evermore lost one! no complaint I’ll make.
Though thou may’st sparkle ’neath thy diamonds bright,
No ray can pierce thy heart’s unceasing night.
I’ve known it long. In vision saw I thee,
How night thy heart doth fill unceasingly,
And how the serpent at thy heart doth gnaw,--
How wretched, love, thou art, too well I saw.
20.
Thou’rt wretched, yes!--but no complaint I’ll make;--
My love, we both, alas, must wretched be!
Till death our poor afflicted hearts doth break,
My love, we both, alas, must wretched be!
I see the scorn that round thy mouth doth play,
I see thine eyes that glance so haughtily,
I see the pride that doth thy bosom sway,--
Yet thou art wretched, wretched e’en as I.
Grief lurks around thy mouth, unseen indeed,
With hidden tears thine eyes can scarcely see,
And secret wounds on thy proud bosom feed--
My love, we both, alas, must wretched be!
21.
The flutes and fiddles are sounding,
The trumpets ringing clear;
In the wedding dance is bounding
My heart’s own mistress dear.
The shawms and kettle-drums vying
In noisy chorus I hear;
But meanwhile good angels are sighing
And weeping many a tear.
22.
Thou scarcely could’st have forgotten it faster,
That I of thine heart so long was the master;
Thine heart so false, so small, and so sweet,
A sweeter and falser I never shall meet.
Thou now hast forgotten the love and disaster
That made my heart throb all the faster;
I know not if love was the greatest, or woe;
That both were great, full well I know.
23.
O if the tiny flowers
But knew of my wounded heart,
Their tears, like mine, in showers
Would fall, to cure the smart.
If knew the nightingales only
That I’m so mournful and sad,
They would cheer my misery lonely
With their notes so tuneful and glad.
If the golden stars high o’er us
But knew of my bitter woe,
They would speak words of comfort in chorus,
Descending hither below.
Not one of these can allay it,
One only knows of my smart;
’Tis she, I grieve to say it,
Who thus hath wounded my heart.
24.
O why have the roses lost their hue,
Sweet love, O tell me why?
Why mutely thus do the violets blue
In the verdant meadows sigh?
O why doth the lark up high in the air
With a voice so mournful sing?
O why doth each fragrant floweret fair
Exhale like a poisonous thing?
O wherefore looks the sun to-day
On the fields, so full of gloom?
O why doth the earth appear so grey,
And dreary as a tomb?
Why feel I myself so mournful and weak,--
Sweet love, I put it to thee?
My own sweet darling, sweet love, O speak,--
O wherefore leavest thou me?
25.
For thine ear many tales they invented,
And loud complaints preferred;
But how my soul was tormented,
Of this they said not a word.
They prated of mischief and evil,
And mournfully shook their head;
They liken’d poor me to the devil,
And thou didst believe what they said.
But, O; the worst and the saddest,
Of this they nothing knew;
The saddest and the maddest
In my heart was hidden from view.
26.
The linden blossom’d, the nightingale sung,
The sun was laughing with radiance bright;
Thou kissed’st me then, while thine arm round me clung,
To thy heaving bosom thou pressed’st me tight.
The raven was screeching, the leaves fast fell,
The sun gazed cheerlessly down on the sight;
We coldly said to each other “Farewell!”
Thou politely didst make me a curtsey polite.
27.
We have felt for each other emotions soft,
And yet our tempers always were matching,
At “man and wife” we have play’d full oft,
And yet ne’er took to fighting and scratching.
We have shouted together, together been gay,
And tenderly kiss’d and fondled away.
At last we play’d in forest and dell
At hide and seek, like sister and brother.
And managed to hide ourselves so well,
That never since then have we seen each other.
28.
I’ve no belief in the heavens
Of which the parsons rave;
In thine eyes believe I only,
In their heavenly light I lave.
I’ve no belief in the Maker
Of whom the parsons rave;
In thine heart believe I only,
No other God will I have.
I’ve no belief in the devil,
In hell or the pains of hell;
In thine eyes believe I only,
And thine evil heart as well.
29.
To me thou wert faithful and steady,
And madest for me supplication;
In my troubles and sad tribulation
Thy comfort always was ready.
Food and drink thou gav’st me in payment,
And plenty of money didst lend me,
And also a passport didst send me,
As well as some changes of raiment.
From heat and from coldness unpleasant
May heaven, my dear one, long guard thee,
And may it never reward thee
The kindness shown me at present!
30.
The earth had long been avaricious,
But May, when she came, gave with great prodigality,
And all things now smile with rapture delicious,
But I for laughter have no partiality.
The blue bells are ringing, their beauty displaying,
The birds, as in fables, talk sentimentality;
I take no pleasure in all they are saying,
And I am quite wretched in sober reality.
All men I detest, and now cannot meet one,
Not even my friend, with the least cordiality,
And this all because my amiable sweet one
They “madam” entitle, with chilling formality.
31.
And when I so long, so long had delay’d,
In foreign lands had in reveries stay’d,
My loved one found it too long to wait,
And sew’d herself a wedding-dress straight,
And then embraced in her arms, willy-nilly,
As bridegroom, the youth in the world the most silly.
My loved one is so beauteous and soft,
Before me still hovers her image oft;
Her rosy cheeks, her violet eyes
That all the year round glow bright as the skies.
That I could fly from such charming attractions
Was the silliest far of my silliest actions.
32.
The lovely eyes of violet blue,
The beauteous cheeks of rosy hue,
The hands so like white lilies too,--
All these still sweetly blossom and bloom,
The heart alone is cold as the tomb.
33.
The earth is so fair, and the heavens so bright,
The breezes are breathing with soothing might
The blooming fields with flowers are dight,
In the morning dew all radiant with light,
All men are rejoicing that meet my sight--
My bed in the grave I fain would be pressing,
The corpse of my mistress dear caressing.
34.
When in the tomb, my mistress fair,
The chilly tomb, thou must hide thee.
I’ll soon descend to rejoin thee there,
And fondly nestle beside thee.
I wildly will press thee, embrace thee, and kiss
My pale, cold, fearful-to-see love!
I’ll tremble, weep, shout with rapturous bliss,
And soon be a corpse like thee, love.
The dead will arise, when midnight is nigh,
And dance in airy troops lightly;
But we in the tomb will quietly lie,
Thine arms embracing me tightly.
The dead will arise, when the loud trump of doom
To bliss or to torment is calling;
But regardless of all, we’ll remain in the tomb,
Still clasp’d in embraces enthralling.
35.
A lonely fir tree is standing
On a northern barren height;
It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift
Cast round it a garment of white.
It dreams of a slender palm-tree,
Which far in the Eastern land
Beside a precipice scorching
In silent sorrow doth stand.
36.
Fair, bright, golden constellation,
Seek my love’s far habitation;
Tell her that I still am true,
Sick at heart and palefaced too.
37.
(_The head speaks._)
Ah, were I but the footstool e’en
On which my loved one’s foot doth rest,
I ne’er to grumble should be seen,
However hard I might be press’d.
(_The heart speaks._)
Ah, were I but the cushion soft
Wherein her pins she’s wont to stick,
And ’twere her will to prick me oft,
I should rejoice at every prick.
(_The song speaks._)
Ah, were I but the paper dear
Wherewith she’s wont her hair to curl,
I’d gently whisper in her ear
The thoughts that in me live and whirl.
38.
Since my darling one has left me,
Power of laughing is bereft me;
Blockheads fain would raise a joke,
But no laughter can provoke.
Since I’ve lost my darling one,
Power of weeping, too, is gone;
Though my heart with sorrow deep
Wellnigh breaks, I cannot weep.
39.
My little songs do I utter
From out of my great, great sorrow;
Some tinkling pinions they borrow,
And tow’rd her bosom they flutter.
They found it, and over it hover’d,
But soon return’d they, complaining,
And yet to tell me disdaining
What they in her bosom discover’d.
40.
Sweet darling, beloved by me solely,
The thoughts in my memory dwell
That once I possess’d thee wholly,
Thy soul and body as well.
Thy body, so young and tender,
I need, beyond all doubt;
Thy soul to the tomb I’ll surrender,
I’ve plenty of soul without.
I’ll cut my soul in sunder,
And half of it breathe into thee,
And when I embrace thee,--O wonder!--
One soul and body we’ll be.
41.
The blockheads, their holidays keeping,
Are walking through forest and plain;
They shout, and like kittens are leaping,
And hail sweet Nature again.
They gaze, with glances that glisten,
On each romantic thing;
With ears like asses they listen
To hear the sparrows sing.
My chamber window to darken,
With black cloth I hang it by day;
To the signal my spirits straight hearken,
Day-visits they hasten to pay.
My olden love also draws nigh me,
From the realms of the dead she appears;
She, weeping, sits gently close by me,
And softens my bosom to tears.
42.
Many visions of times long vanish’d
Arise from out of their tomb,
And show me how once in thy presence
I lived in my life’s young bloom.
All day I mournfully totter’d
Through the streets, as though in a dream
The people gazed on me with wonder,
So silent and sad did I seem.
The night-time suited me better,
Deserted the streets were then,
And I and my shadow together
We wandered in silence again.
With footsteps echoing loudly
I wander’d over the bridge;
The moon with solemn look hail’d me
As she burst through the cloudy ridge.
I stood in front of thy dwelling,
And fondly gazed up on high;
I gazed up towards thy window,
My heart breathed many a sigh.
Well know I that thou from the window
Full often hast gazed below,
And in the moonlight hast seen me
Stand fix’d, the image of woe.
43.
A youth once loved a maiden,
Who loved another instead;
The other himself loved another,
And with the latter did wed.
The maiden, in scornful anger,
Straight married the first of the men
Who happened to come across her,--
The youth was heart-broken then.
’Tis only an old, old story,
And yet it ever seems new;
The heart of him whom it pictures
Will soon be broken in two.
44.
Friendship, love, philosophers’ stone,--
These three things men value alone.
I, too, valued and sought them ever,
But, alas, discovered them never.
45.
On hearing the strains enthralling
That my loved one sang to me erst,
With torments fierce and appalling
My heart is ready to burst.
Impell’d by a gloomy yearning
I seek in the forest relief,
And there in tears hotly burning
I quench my anguish and grief.
46.
The child of a king in dream have I seen;
How tear-stain’d and pallid her face is,
As we quietly sit ’neath the linden green,
Held fast in each other’s embraces!
“Thy father’s throne is nothing to me,
Nor yet his sceptre all golden,
And diamond crown; for nothing but thee,
Sweet love, will I be beholden.”
“That may not be,” the maiden replied,
For I in my grave am lying,
And only by night can I be by thy side,
To thy loving caresses replying.”
47.
Sweet love, in fond converse together
In the light canoe sat we,
Still the night was, and calm was the weather,
As we skimm’d o’er the wide-spreading sea.
The fair spirit-islands before us
In the glimmering moonlight lay;
Sweet tones came floating o’er us,
While the mists were dancing in play.
On danced they with merrier motion,
And sweeter still sounded the song;
But over the boundless ocean
We mournfully floated along.
48.
From older legends springing,
Appears a snow-white band
With joyous strains, and singing,
From some far magic-land,
Where flowers in glowing splendour
Pine in the evening sun,
And bridal glances tender
Cast sweetly every one;
Where all the trees, uniting
In chorus, shout below,
And bubbling brooks delighting
The ear, like music flow;
And love-songs fierce and burning
Unheard of bliss impart,
Till sweet and wondrous yearning
Befools the throbbing heart.
Ah, could I thither travel,
And ease my aching breast,
And all my grief unravel,
And there be free and blest!
That land, whence care and trouble
Are banish’d, that in dreams
Oft see I, like a bubble
Dissolves, when morning beams.
49.
I’ve loved thee long, and I love thee still
And e’en if the world were shatter’d,
My glowing love would glisten and thrill,
Though widely earth’s ruins were scatter’d.
* * * * *
And when I thus have loved thee so well
Till the hour of death has sounded,
I’ll take with me e’en to my tomb’s dark cell
My love-pangs fierce and unbounded.
50.
In the glimmering summer morning
I pace the garden alone;
The flowers are whisp’ring and speaking,
But silently wander I on.
The flowers are whisp’ring and speaking,
My form with compassion they scan:
O pray be kind to our sister,
Thou mournful and pale-faced man!
51.
Her dark attire thus wearing
My love appears to my sight
Like a tale of sorrow despairing
That’s told in the long summer night:
“In the magical garden there wander
“Two lovers mute and alone;
“Sweet sing the nightingales yonder,
“The moonbeams are over them thrown.
“Like a statue the maiden stands mildly,
“At her feet the faithful knight lies;
“The forest giant comes wildly,
“The sorrowing maiden soon flies.
“Soon the knight on the ground lies all gory,
“The giant goes home at his ease--”
And when I am buried, the story
Is ended as soon as you please.
52.
They often have vex’d me sadly
And worried me early and late;
While some with their love have annoy’d me,
The others pursued me with hate.
My bread they have utterly poison’d,
And poison’d my cup too of late;
While some with their love have annoy’d me,
The others pursued me with hate.
But she who more than all others
Has vex’d me, and worried, and chafed,
She only with hate ne’er pursued me,
She only her love ne’er vouchsafed.
53.
There lies the glow of summer
Upon thy cheek confess’d,
And in thine heart cold winter
Has made its place of rest.
All this will soon be alter’d,
My dearest love and best,
The winter on thy cheek be,
The summer in thy breast!
54.
When two fond lovers are parted,
They give each other the hand,
To weep and to sigh beginning,
And losing all self-command.
But not one single tear wept we,
No Ah! or Alas! did we sigh;
Our tears and our sighs both together
Too surely came by-and-by.
55.
They sat round the tea-table drinking
And speaking of love a great deal;
The men of æsthetics were thinking,
The ladies more prone were to feel.
“All love ought to be but platonical”
The wither’d old counsellor said;
His wife by a smile quite ironical
Rejoin’d, and then sighed “Ah!” instead.
Said the canon with visage dejected:
“Love ne’er should be suffered to go
“Too far, or the health is affected;”
The maiden then simper’d: “How so?”
The Countess her sad feelings vented,
Said “Love is a passion, I’m sure,”
And then to the Baron presented
His cup with politeness demure.
A place was still empty at table;
My darling, ’twas thou wert away;
Thou hadst been so especially able
The tale of thy love, sweet, to say.
56.
My songs with poison are tainted,
But how could it otherwise be?
My blossoming life thou hast poison’d,
And made it hateful to me.
My songs with poison are tainted,
But how could it otherwise be?
In my heart many serpents I carry,
And thee too, my dearest love, thee.
57.
I dreamt once more the vision of yore:
The time was a fair May even,
We sat ’neath the linden, and there we swore
To be faithful, in presence of heaven.
And once and again we plighted our troth,
And titter’d, caress’d, kiss’d so dearly;
And lest I should fail to remember my oath,
My hand thou then bittest severely.
O sweetest love, with the eyes so bright,
O sweet one, so fair and so biteful!
The swearing was doubtless all proper and right
But the biting was rather too spiteful!
58.
I stand on the brow of the mountain,
And sentimentally sigh.
“O were I only a bird now!”
I many a thousand times cry.
O were I only a swallow,
My darling, to thee would I fly,
And soon a nest would I build me,
Thy lattice window hard by.
O were I a nightingale only,
I would fly, my darling, to thee,
And sing my sweet songs by night-time
Perch’d high in the green linden tree.
O were I only a bullfinch,
I would fly straight into thy heart;
To the bullfinch thou always wert kindly,
And healest the bullfinch’s smart.[7]
59.
My carriage is traversing slowly
The greenwood merry and bright,
Through flowering valleys, like magic
Illumed by the sun’s glowing light.
I’m sitting and thinking and dreaming,
And muse on my mistress dear;
When, nodding their heads at the window,
Three shadowy figures appear.
They skip and they make wry grimaces,
So scoffing and yet so shy;
And twirling mist-like together,
They titter and haste swiftly by.
60.
In vision I lately was weeping,
I dreamt thou wert laid in thy grave;
I awoke, and the tears unceasing
My cheeks continued to lave.
In vision I lately was weeping,
I dreamt I was left, love, by thee;
I awoke, and weeping continued
Both long and bitterly.
In vision I lately was weeping,
I dreamt thou wert kind as of yore;
I awoke, and my tears in torrents
Continued to flow as before.
61.
All night in vision behold I thee,
And see thee greeting me kindly;
And loudly weeping then throw I me
Before thy sweet feet blindly.
With sorrowing looks thou stand’st in my view,
Thy fair locks mournfully shaking;
While teardrops bright of pearly hue
From thy dear eyes are breaking.
A gentle word thou dost secretly say,
And givest a cypress-wreath sweetly;
I awake, and the wreath has vanish’d away,
And the word is forgotten completely.
62.
’tis autumn, the night’s dark and gloomy
With rain and tempest above;
Where tarries,--O tell it unto me,--
My poor and sorrowing love?
By the window I see her reclining,
In her chamber lonely and drear,
And out in the night, sadly pining,
She looks with many a tear.
63.
The trees in the autumn wind rustle,
The night is humid and cold;
I ride all alone in the forest,
And round me my grey cloak I fold.
And as I am riding, before me
My thoughts unrestrainedly roam;
They lightly and airily bear me
To my own dear mistress’s home.
The dogs are barking, the servants
With glittering torches appear;
I climb up the winding staircase,
My spurs ring loudly and clear.
In her bright-lighted tapestry chamber,
So full of magical charms,
My own sweet darling awaits me,
I hasten into her arms.
The wind in the leaves is sighing,
The oak thus whispers to me:
“What means, thou foolish young horseman,
“Thy foolish reverie?”
64.
A glittering star is falling
From its shining home in the air;
The star of love ’tis surely
That I see falling there.
The blossoms and leaves in plenty
From the apple tree fall each day;
The merry breezes approach them,
And with them merrily play.
The swan in the pool is singing,
And up and down doth he steer,
And, singing gently ever,
Dips under the water clear.
All now is silent and darksome,
The leaves and blossoms decay,
The star has crumbled and vanish’d,
The song of the swan died away.
65.
The Dream-God brought me to a castle vast,
Where magic fragrance reign’d and lights were gleaming,
And through its mazy-winding chambers pass’d
A chequer’d throng, still onward, onward streaming.
The pale crowd seek the exit-portal fast,
Wringing their hands, and full of terror screaming,
And knights and maidens mingle in the throng,
And I myself am with them borne along.
But suddenly I stand alone, for, lo,
The crowd hath vanish’d and from sight departed;
I wander on, and through the chambers go,
All strangely winding, silent and deserted;
My foot is leaden, and I scarcely know
How to escape, thus sadden’d and faint-hearted.
At length the farthest portal I descry,
And seek to pass--great heavens, what meets mine eye!
It was my love, who at the door did stand,
Grief on her lips, her brow in tribulation.
I sought to fly,--she beckon’d with her hand,
Whether to warn me, or in indignation;
Yet gleam’d her eye like some sweet glowing brand,
Setting my heart and brain in conflagration.
And as she gazed with looks of passion deep,
Blended with sternness, I awoke from sleep.
66.
The midnight was cold, in plaintive mood
I wander’d mournfully through the wood;
I shook the trees from out of their sleep,
They shook their heads with pity deep.
67.
Beneath the crossway buried,
The suicide lies here,
Where grows a charming blue flow’ret,
The culprit-flower so dear.
I stood by the crossway sighing,
The night was chilly and drear,
While slowly moved in the moonlight
The culprit-flower so dear.
68.
Wheresoe’er I go, there darkles
Round me gloom and utter night,
Now that there no longer sparkles
On me, love, thine eyes’ sweet light.
Quench’d are all the golden blisses
That love’s star upon me smil’d;
’Neath my feet the dread abyss is,--
Night primeval, take thy child!
69.
Night lay upon mine eyelids,
Upon my mouth lay lead;
I in my grave was lying,
With frozen heart and head.
How long it was I know not
That I in slumber lay;
I woke and heard a knocking
Upon my grave one day.
“Wilt thou not rise up, Henry?
“The Judgment Day is this,
“The dead have all arisen,
“To taste of endless bliss.”
I cannot rise, my darling,
For I have lost my sight;
Mine eyes, through very weeping,
Are veil’d in darkest night.
“I’ll kiss away the darkness,
“My Henry, from thine eyes;
“The angels shalt thou see then,
“The glory of the skies.”
I cannot rise, my darling,
The wound is bleeding yet,
Made by thee in my bosom
With one sharp word and threat.
“My hand all gently, Henry,
“I’ll lay upon thy heart;
“It then will bleed no longer,
“And heal’d will be the smart.”
I cannot rise, my darling,
My head still bleeds amain!
’Twas there the bullet enter’d,
When thou wert from me ta’en.
“With my long tresses, Henry,
“I’ll stanch the bleeding wound,
“And drive the blood-stream backwards,
“And make thy head thus sound.”
So gently, sweetly pray’d she,
I could not spurn her prayer;
I sought to rise and hasten
To join my mistress fair.
Then all my wounds ’gan bleeding,
Then, wildly rushing, broke
From head and breast the bloodstream,
And lo!--from sleep I woke.
70.
The numbers old and evil,
The dreams so harrowing,
Let’s bury all together,--
A mighty coffin bring!
I’ll place there much, but say not
What ’tis, till all is done;
The coffin must be larger
Than Heidelberg’s vast tun.
And also bring a death-bier,
Of boards full stout and sound;
They also must be longer
Than Mayence bridge renown’d.
And also bring twelve giants
Whose strength of limb excels
Saint Christopher’s, whose shrine in
Cologne Cathedral dwells.
The coffin they must carry,
And sink beneath the wave;
For such a mighty coffin
Must have a mighty grave.
Why was the coffin, tell me,
So great and hard to move?
I in it placed my sorrows,
And in it placed my love.
THE GODS’ TWILIGHT.
Fair May has come with her bright golden radiance
And silken gales and fragrant spicy odours,
And kindly lures us with her snowy blossoms,
And from a thousand blue-eyed violets greets us,
And spreads abroad her flowery verdant carpet,
With morning dew and sunshine interwoven,
And summons all her favourite human children.
At her first call the bashful people come;
The men in haste put on their nankeen breeches,
And Sunday coats with golden glassy buttons;
The women don the white of innocence,
The youths take care to curl their spring-mustachios,
The maidens bid their bosoms softly heave;
The city poets cram into their pockets
Paper, lead-pencil, and lorgnette; and gaily
The eddying moving crowd draw near the gateway,
And lie at ease on the green turf beyond,
Amazed to see how much the trees have sprouted,--
Play with the tender colour’d flowerets fair,
List to the song of merry birds above them,
And shout exulting tow’rds the vault of heaven.
To me came also May, and three times knock’d she
Against my door and cried: “Behold sweet May!
“Thou palefaced dreamer, come, I fain would kiss thee!”
But I my door kept bolted, and I cried:
“In vain thou seek’st to tempt me, evil stranger.
“I long have seen thee through, I’ve seen through also
“The fabric of the world, and seen too much,
“And much too deep, and fled is all my pleasure,
“And endless torments quiver in my heart.
“I see through all the stony hard outsides
“Of human houses and of human bosoms,
“And see in both deceit and woe and falsehood.
“I’ve learnt to read the thoughts on every face,--
“All evil! In the maiden’s shamefaced blushes
“I see the trembling of a secret lust;
“On the inspired and haughty head of youth
“I see the laughing chequer’d fool’s cap jingling;
“And caric’tures alone and sickly shadows
“I see upon this earth, and live in doubt
“Whether a madhouse ’tis, or hospital.
“The old earth’s crust I see through but too plainly
“As though it were of crystal,--see the horrors
“Which May is vainly striving to conceal
“With pleasing verdure. There I see the dead;
“They lie beneath, in their small coffins prison’d,
“With hands together folded, eyes wide open,
“White is their garment, white their face as well,
“And yellow worms from out their lips are crawling.
“I see the son with his loved mistress sitting
“And toying with her on his father’s grave.
“Derisive songs the nightingales are singing,
“The gentle meadow flow’rets laugh with malice,
“And the dead father moveth in his grave,
“While the old mother-earth with pain doth shudder.”
O thou poor earth, thy sorrows know I well!
I see the glow that in thy breast is heaving,
Thy thousand veins I see all bleeding freely,
And see thy gaping wounds all, all torn open,
While flames and smoke and blood stream wildly forth.
I see thy proud defiant giant-children,
Primeval monsters, from dark gulfs arising
And swinging ruddy torches in their hands.
Their iron scaling-ladders they advance,
And wildly rush to storm the forts of heaven,
And swarthy dwarfs climb after them; with crackling
Each golden star on high like dust is scatter’d.
With daring hand they tear the golden curtain
From God’s own tent; the blessèd troops of angels
Fall headlong down with howling at the sight.
The pale God sits upon his awful throne,
Tears from his head his crown, and tears his hair.--
Still onward, onward press the savage crew,
The giants fiercely hurl their blazing torches
Into the realms of heaven, the dwarfs strike wildly
With flaming scourges on the angels’ backs,
Who twist and writhe in ecstasy of anguish,
And by the hair are seized and whirl’d away.
And my own angel likewise see I there,
With his blond locks, his sweet expressive features,
With everlasting love around his mouth,
And with beatitude in his blue eyes.
A fearful hideous swarthy goblin comes,
Tears him from off the ground, my poor pale angel,
Grins as he ogles his fair noble limbs,
And clasps him firmly in his soft embraces,--
A yell re-echoes through the universe,
The pillars crash, and earth and heaven are hurl’d
Headlong together, and old night is lord.
RATCLIFF.[8]
The Dream-God brought me to a landscape fair
Where weeping willows nodded me a welcome
With their long verdant arms, and where the flowers
Gazed on me mutely with wise sisters’ eyes,
Where the birds’ twittering resounded sweetly,
Where the dogs’ barking seem’d to me familiar,
And voices kindly greeted me, and figures,
Like an old friend, and yet where everything
Appear’d so strange, beyond description strange.
Before a pretty country-house I stood,
My bosom in me moving, but my head
All peaceful, and the dust with calmness shook I
From off my travelling garments; shrilly sounded
The bell I rang, and then the door was open’d.
Inside were men and women, many faces
To me well known. Still sorrow lay on all,
And secret fearful grief. With strange emotion,
Wellnigh with looks of pity, on me gazed they
Till my own soul with terror was pervaded,
As though foreboding some unknown misfortune.
Old Margaret I straightway recognized,
Gazed on her fixedly, but yet she spake not.
“Where is Maria?” ask’d I, yet she spake not,
But softly seized my hand, and led me on
Through many a long and brightly-lighted chamber,
Where splendour, pomp, and deathlike silence reign’d
And to a darksome room at length she brought me,
And, with her face averted from me, pointed
Toward the form that sat upon the sofa.
“Art thou Maria?” ask’d I. Inwardly
I was myself astounded at the firmness
With which I spoke. Like stone and hollow
Sounded a voice: “That is the name they call me.”
A piercing agony straight froze me through,
For that cold hollow tone, alas, was yet
The once enchanting voice of my Maria!
And yonder woman in pale lilac dress,
In negligent attire, with unveil’d bosom,
With glassy staring eyes, like leather seeming
The muscles of the cheeks of her white face,--
Alas, that woman once was the most lovely,
The blooming, pleasing, sweet and kind Maria!
“Your travels have been long” she said aloud
In cold, unpleasing, but familiar accents,--
“You look no longer languishing, my friend,
“You’re well in health, your loins and calves elastic.
“Show your solidity.” A silly smile
Play’d the while round her yellow, pallid mouth.
In my confusion utter’d I these accents:
“I’ve been inform’d that thou art married now?”
“Ah yes!” she carelessly replied with laughing:
“I have a stick of wood that’s cover’d over
“With leather, call’d a husband. Still, for all that,
“Wood is but wood!” And then she laugh’d perversely
Till chilling anguish through my spirit ran,
And doubt upon me seized:--are those the modest,
The flowery-modest lips of my Maria?
But presently she rose, took quickly up
From off the chair her cashmere shawl, and threw it
Around her neck, my arm took hold of then,
Drew me away, and through the open housedoor,
And led me on through thicket, field, and meadow.
The sun’s red glowing disk already downward
Was hast’ning, and its purple rays were beaming
Over the trees and flowers, and o’er the river
That flow’d majestically in the distance.
“See’st thou the large and golden eye that’s floating
“In the blue water?” cried Maria quickly.
“Hush, thou poor creature!” said I, as I spied
In the dim twilight a strange wondrous motion.
Figures of mist arose from out the plain,
And with white tender arms embraced each other;
The violets eyed each other tenderly,
The lily cups with yearning bent together;
A loving glow in every rose was gleaming,
The pinks would fain in their own breath be kindled,
In blissful odours revell’d every flower,
And every one wept silent tears of rapture,
And all exulting shouted: Love! Love! Love!
The butterflies were fluttering, and the shining
Gold beetles humm’d their gentle fairy songs,
The winds of evening whisper’d, and the oaks
All rustled, and the nightingale sang sweetly;
And amid all the whispering, rustling, singing,
Prated away, with thin cold soundless voice,
The faded woman hanging on my arm:
“I know your nightly longing for the castle;
“Every long shadow is a simpleton,
“That nods and signs precisely as one wishes;
“The blue coat is an angel; but the red coat
“With his drawn sword, is very hostile to you.”
And many other things in this strange fashion
Continued she to say, till, tired at length,
She sat down with me on the mossy bank
That stands beneath the ancient noble oak-tree.
Together there we sat, both sad and silent,
And gazed upon each other, growing sadder.
The oak, as with a dying sigh, was murmuring;
Deep-grieving, sang the nightingale down on us.
But through the leaves a ruddy light was piercing,
And flicker’d round Maria’s pallid face,
And lured a glow from out her rigid eyes,
Until with her old darling voice thus spoke she:
“How knewest thou that I am so unhappy?
“I read it lately in thy strange wild numbers.”
An ice-cold feeling pierced my breast, I shudder’d
At my own mad delirium, which the future
Saw through, my brain grew giddy with alarm,
And through sheer terror I awoke from sleep.
DONNA CLARA.
In the evening-shaded garden
Rambles the Alcalde’s daughter;
Kettle-drums and trumpets loudly
Echo from the lofty castle.
“Wearisome I find the dances,
“And the honied words of flatt’ry,
“And the knights, who so gallantly
“Tell me I the sun resemble.
“Everything is hateful to me
“Since I by the beaming moonlight
“Saw the Knight whose lute allured me
“To the window every evening.
“As he stood, so slim, but daring,
“And his eyes shot lightning glances
“From his pale and noble features,
“Truly he Saint George resembled.”
In this manner Donna Clara
Thought, and on the ground then looked she;
When she raised her eyes, the handsome
Unknown Knight was standing by her.
Pressing hands with loving whispers
Wander they beneath the moonlight,
And the zephyr gently woos them,
Wondrously the roses greet them.
Wondrously the roses greet them,
Like love’s messengers all glowing.--
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Why so suddenly thou redden’st?”
“’Twas the flies that stung me, dearest,
“And the flies are, all the summer,
“Quite as much detested by me
“As the long-nosed Jewish fellows.”
“Never mind the flies and Jews, dear,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses.
From the almond-trees are falling
Thousand white and fleecy blossoms.
Thousand white and fleecy blossoms
Their sweet fragrance shed around them.
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Is thy heart devoted to me?”
“Yes, I truly love thee, dearest,
“And I swear it by the Saviour
“Whom the God-detested Jews erst
“Wickedly and vilely murder’d.”
“Never mind the Jews and Saviour,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses.
In the distance snow-white lilies
Dreamily, light-bathed, are bending.
Bathed in light the snow-white lilies
Gaze upon the stars above them:
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Hast thou not a false oath taken?”
“Falsehood is not in me, dearest,
“Since within my breast there flows not
“E’en one single drop of Moor’s blood,
“Or of dirty Jew’s blood either.”
“Never mind the Moors and Jews, dear,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses;
And he to a myrtle bower
Leads the fair Alcalde’s daughter.
With the nets of love so tender,
He hath secretly enclosed her!
Short their words and long their kisses,
And their hearts are overflowing.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one;
Glowworms on the ground are moving,
As if in the torch-dance circling.
Silence reigns within the bower,
Nought is heard except the stealthy
Whispers of the cunning myrtles,
And the breathing of the flowerets.
But soon kettle-drums and trumpets
Echo from the lofty castle,
And, awakening, Clara quickly
From the Knight’s arm frees her person.
“Hark, they’re calling me, my dearest,
Yet before we part, thou need’st must
Thy dear name to me discover
Which thou hast so long concealèd.”
And the Knight, with radiant smiling,
Kiss’d the fingers of his Donna,
Kiss’d her lips and kiss’d her forehead,
And at last these words he uttered:
“I, Señora, I, your loved one,
Am the son of the much honour’d
Great and learned scribe, the Rabbi
Israel of Saragossa.”
ALMANSOR.
1.
In fair Cordova’s cathedral,
Stand the columns, thirteen hundred,--
Thirteen hundred giant-columns
Bear the mighty dome in safety.
And on dome and walls and columns
From the very top to bottom
The Koran’s Arabian proverbs
Twine in wise and flowery fashion.
Moorish Kings erected whilome
This vast house to Allah’s glory,
Yet in many parts ’tis alter’d
In the darksome whirl of ages.
On the turret where the watchman
Summon’d unto prayer the people,
Now the Christian bell is sounding
With its melancholy murmur.
On the steps whereon the faithful
Used to sing the Prophet’s sayings,
Now baldpated priests exhibit
All the mass’s trivial wonders.
How they twirl before the colour’d
Puppets, full of antic capers,
Midst the incense smoke and ringing,
While the senseless tapers sparkle!
In fair Cordova’s cathedral
Stands Almansor ben Abdullah,
Viewing silently the columns,
And these words in silence murmuring:
“O ye columns, strong, gigantic,
“Once adorn’d in Allah’s glory,
“Now must ye pay humble homage
“To this Christendom detested.
“To the times have ye submitted,
“And ye bear the burden calmly;
“Still more reason for the weaker
“To be patient all the sooner.”
And Almansor ben Abdullah
Bent his head with face unruffled
O’er the font so decorated
In fair Cordova’s cathedral.
2.
The cathedral left he quickly,
On his wild steed speeding onward,
While his moist locks and the feathers
In his hat the wind is moving.
On the road to Alcolea,
By the side of Guadalquivir,
Where the snowy almond blossoms,
And the fragrant golden orange,
Thither bastes the merry rider,
Piping, singing, laughing gaily,
And the birds all swell the chorus,
And the torrent’s noisy waters.
In the fort at Alcolea
Dwelleth Clara de Alvares;
In Navarre her sire is fighting,
And she revels in her freedom.
And afar Almansor heareth
Sounds of kettle-drums and trumpets,
And the castle lights beholds he
Glittering through the trees’ dark shadows.
In the fort at Alcolea
Dance twelve gaily trick’d-out ladies
With twelve knights attired as gaily,
But Almansor’s the best dancer.
As if wing’d by merry fancies,
Round about the hall he flutters,
Knowing how to all the ladies
To address sweet flattering speeches.
Isabella’s lovely hands he
Kisses quickly, and then leaves her,
And before Elvira stands he,
Looking in her face so archly.
He in turns assures each lady
That he heartily adores her;
“On the true faith of a Christian”
Swears he thirty times that evening.
3.
In the fort at Alcolea
Merriment and noise have ceased now
Knights and ladies all have vanish’d,
And the lights are all extinguish’d.
Donna Clara and Almansor
In the hall above still linger,
And one single lamp is throwing
On them both its feeble lustre.
On the seat the lady’s sitting,
And the knight upon the footstool,
And his head, by sleep o’erpower’d,
On her darling knees is resting.
From a golden flask some rose-oil
Pours the lady, sadly musing,
On Almansor’s dark-brown tresses,--
From his inmost bosom sighs he.
With her soft lips then the lady
Gives a sweet kiss, sadly musing,
On Almansor’s dark-brown tresses,--
And his brow is clouded over.
From her light eyes tears in torrents
Weeps the lady, sadly musing,
On Almansor’s dark-brown tresses,--
And his lips begin to quiver.
And he dreams he’s once more standing
With his head bent down and weeping
In fair Cordova’s cathedral,
Many gloomy voices hearing.
All the lofty giant-columns
Hears he murmuring full of anger,--
That no longer will they bear it,
And they totter and they tremble.
And they wildly fall together,
Pale turn all the priests and people,
Crashing falls the dome upon them,
And the Christian gods wail loudly.
THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR
1.
The mother stood by the window,
The son in bed lay he.
“Wilt thou not rise up, William,
“The fair procession to see?”--
“I am so ill, my mother,
“I neither see nor hear;
“I think of my poor dead Gretchen,
“My heart is breaking near.”
“Arise, let’s go to Kevlaar,
“Take book and rosary too;
“The mother of God will heal thee,
“And cure thy sick heart anew.”
In church-like tones they are singing,
The banners flutter on high;
At Cologne on the Rhine this happens,
The proud procession moves by.
The crowd the mother follows,
Her son she leadeth now,
And both of them sing in chorus:
“O Mary, blessed be thou!”
2.
The mother of God at Kevlaar
Her best dress wears to-day;
Full much hath she to accomplish,
So great the sick folks’ array.
The sick folk with them are bringing,
As offerings fitting and meet,
Strange limbs of wax all fashion’d,
Yes, waxen hands and feet.
And he who a wax hand offers,
Finds cured in his hand the wound,
And he who a wax foot proffers,
Straight finds his foot grow sound.
To Kevlaar went many on crutches
Who now on the tight rope skip,
And many a palsied finger
O’er the viol doth merrily trip.
The mother took a waxlight,
And out of it fashion’d a heart:
“My son, take that to God’s mother,
“And she will cure thy smart.”
The son took sighing the wax-heart,
Went with sighs to the shrine so blest,
The tears burst forth from his eyelids,
The words burst forth from his breast:
“Thou highly-favour’d blest one!
“Thou pure and godlike maid!
“Thou mighty queen of heaven,
“To thee my woes be display’d!
“I with my mother was dwelling
“In yonder town of Cologne,
“The town that many a hundred
“Fair churches and chapels doth own.
“And near us there dwelt my Gretchen,
“Who, alas! is dead to-day;
“O, Mary, I bring thee a wax-heart,
“My heart’s wounds cure, I pray.
“My sick heart cure, O cure thou,
“And early and late my vow
“I’ll pay, and sing with devotion:
“‘O Mary, blessed be thou!’”
3.
The poor sick son and his mother
In their little chamber slept,
The mother of God to their chamber
All lightly, lightly crept.
She bent herself over the sick one,
Her hand with action light
Upon his heart placed softly,
Smiled sweetly and vanish’d from sight.
The mother saw all in her vision,
Saw this and saw much more;
From out of her slumber woke she,
The hounds were baying full sore.
Her son was lying before her,
And dead her son he lay,
While over his pale cheeks gently
The light of morning did play.
Her hands the mother folded,
She felt she knew not how;
With meekness sang she and softly:
“O Mary, blessed be thou!”
THE DREAM.
(From _Salon_.)
A vision I dreamt of a lovely child.
She wore her hair in tresses;
In the blue nights of summer so calm and mild
We sat in the greenwood’s recesses.
In mutual rapture and torture we vied,
We loved and exchanged loving kisses;
The yellow stars in the heavens all sigh’d
And seem’d to envy our blisses.
I now am awake, and around me gaze
In the darkness, alone and despairing;
The stars in the heavens are shedding their rays
In silence and all-uncaring.
_NEW POEMS._
1. SERAPHINA.
1.
When at evening in the forest,
In the dreamlike wood I rove,
Ever doth thy slender figure
Close beside me softly move.
See I not thy gentle features?
Is it not thy veil that stirs?
Can it be the moonlight only
Breaking through the gloomy firs?
Can it be mine own tears only
That I hear all-lightly flow?
Or my loved one, dost thou really
Close beside me weeping go?
2.
O’er the silent strand of ocean
Night appears in gloomy splendour
From the clouds the moon is breaking,
As the waves these whispers send her
“Yonder mortal, is he foolish,
“Or is he by love tormented,
“That he looks so sad, yet joyous,
“So distress’d, yet so contented?”
But the moon, with smiles replying,
Loudly said: “Full well I know it;
“He is both in love and foolish,
“And moreover is a poet.”
3.
’Tis surely a snowwhite seamew
That I see fluttering there
Just over the darksome billows;
The moon stands high in the air.
The shark and the ray snap fiercely
From out of the wave, and stare;
The seamew is rising and falling,
The moon stands high in the air.
O dear and wandering spirit,
So sad and full of despair!
Too near art thou to the water,
The moon stands high in the air.
4.
I knew that thou didst love me,
I knew it long, dear maid;
Yet when thou didst confess it
I felt full sore afraid.
I clamber’d up the mountain
With loud exulting song,
At sunset rambled weeping
The ocean shore along.
The sun my heart resembleth,
So flaming to the sight,
And in a loving ocean
It setteth, great and bright.
5.
How curiously the seamew
Looks over at us, dear,
Because against thy lips I
So firmly press my ear!
She maybe would discover
What from thy mouth did flow,--
If words alone or kisses
Thou in my ear didst throw.
O could I but decipher
What ’tis that fills my mind!
The words are with the kisses
So wondrously combined.
6.
As timid as the roe she fled,
And with its fleetness vying;
She clamber’d on from crag to crag
Her hair behind her flying.
Where to the sea the cliffs descend,
At length I caught the rover;
And gently there with gentle words
Her coy heart soon won over.
High as the heavens we sat, both fill’d
With heavenly blest emotion;
Beneath us by degrees the sun
Sank in the dark deep ocean.
In the dark sea beneath us far
The beauteous sun sank proudly;
The billows with impetuous joy
Were meanwhile roaring loudly.
Weep not, the sun in yonder waves
Hath not for ever perish’d,
But lieth hidden in my heart,
Where all its glow is cherish’d.
7.
Upon this rock we build the Church
Which (type of our to-morrow)
Proclaims the third New Testament,
And ended is our sorrow.
The twofold nature that so long
Deceived us, is abolish’d;
Our olden fierce corporeal pangs
Are now at length demolish’d.
Hear’st thou the God in yon dark sea?
He speaks with thousand voices;
See’st thou how overhead God’s sky
With thousand lights rejoices?
Almighty God is in the light,
As in the dark abysses,
And everything there is, is God,
He is in all our kisses.
8.
Gray night broodeth o’er the ocean,
And the tiny stars are sparkling;
Long protracted voices oft-times
Sound from out the billows darkling.
There the aged north wind sporteth
With the glassy waves of ocean,
Which like organ pipes are skipping
With a never-ceasing motion.
Partly heathenish, partly churchlike,
Strangely doth this music move us,
As it rises boldly upwards,
Gladdening e’en the stars above us.
And the stars, still larger growing,
With a radiant joy are gleaming,
And at length around the heavens
Roam, with sunlike lustre beaming
To far-reaching strains of music
They revolve in madden’d legions
Sunny nightingales are circling
In those fair and blissful regions.
With a mighty roar and crashing,
Sea and heaven alike are singing,
And I feel a giant-rapture
Wildly through my bosom ringing
9.
Shadowy love and shadowy kisses,
Shadowy life, how wondrous strange!
Fool, dost think, then, that all this is
Ever true and free from change?
Like an empty dream hath vanish’d
All we loved with love so deep;
Memory from the heart is banish’d,
And the eyes are closed in sleep.
10.
The maid stood by the ocean,
And long and deep sigh’d she
With heartfelt sad emotion,
The setting sun to see.
Sweet maiden, why this fretting?
An olden trick is here;
Although before us setting,
He rises in our rear.
11.
With sails all black my ship sails on
Far over the raging sea;
Thou know’st full well how sad am I,
And yet tormentest me.
Thy heart is faithless as the wind,
And flutters ceaselessly;
With sails all black my ship sails on
Far over the raging sea.
12.
Though shamefully thou didst entreat me,
To no man would I e’er unfold it,
But travell’d far over the billows,
And unto the fishes I told it.
I’ve left thee thy good reputation
With earth and the beings upon her,
But every depth of the ocean
Knows fully thy tale of dishonour.
13.
The roaring waves are dashing
High on the strand;
They’re swelling and they’re crashing
Over the sand.
They come in noisy fashion
Unceasingly,--
At length burst into passion,--
But what care we?
14.
The Runic stone ’mongst the waves stands high,
There sit I, with thoughts far roaming;
The wind pipes loudly, the seamews cry,
The billows are curling and foaming.
I’ve loved full many a charming girl,
Loved many a comrade proudly--
Where are they now? The billows curl
And foam, and the wind pipes loudly.
15.
The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sunlit sky,
O let me there be buried,
My brethren, when I die.
The sea I have always loved so,
It oft hath cool’d my breast
With its refreshing billows,
Each in the other’s love blest.
2. ANGELICA.
1.
Now that heaven my wish hath granted,
Why be dumb, like mutes inglorious,--
I who, when unhappy, chanted
Of my woe with noise uproarious,
Till a thousand youths despairing
Sang like me with voices hollow,
And the song I sang uncaring
Made still greater mischief follow?
O ye nightingale-like chorus,
That I bear within my spirit,
Let your song of joy rise o’er us
Merrily, that all may hear it.
2.
Once more behind thee thou wert looking,
Swiftly as thou didst past me glide,
With open mouth, as if inquiring,
And in thy look a stormy pride.
O that I ne’er had sought to grasp it,
That flowing robe of snowy white!
The little foot’s enchanting traces,
O that they ne’er had met my sight!
Thy wildness now indeed hath vanish’d,
Like other women tame art thou,
And mild, and somewhat over-civil,
And, ah, thou even lov’st me now.
3.
I’ll not credit, youthful beauty,
What thy bashful lips may say;
Eyes so black and large and rolling
Are not much in virtue’s way.
Strip away this brown-striped falsehood--
Well and truly love I thee;
Let thy white heart kiss me, dearest--
White heart, understand’st thou me?
4.
Upon her mouth I give a kiss,
And close her either eye;
She gives me now no peace for this,
But asks the reason why.
From night to morn, because of this,
This is her constant cry:
“When on my mouth thou giv’st a kiss,
“Why close my either eye?”
I tell her not the cause of this,
Nor know the reason why,
Yet on her mouth I give a kiss,
And close her either eye.
5.
When I am made blest with kisses delicious,
And lie in thine arms, O in that happy season
Thou ne’er must discourse of Germany, dearest,--
It spoils my digestion,--there’s plenty of reason.
With Germany leave me in peace, I implore thee,
Thou must not torment me with question on question
Of home and relations and manner of living,--
There’s plenty of reason,--it spoils my digestion.
The oaks there are green, and blue are the dear eyes
Of German women; they sigh as they please on
The blisses of love and of hope and religion,--
It spoils my digestion,--there’s plenty of reason.
6.
Whilst I after other people
And their treasures have been prying,
And with ever-restless yearning,
At strange doors of love been spying,
Probably those other people
Have been taking their own pleasure
Similarly, and been ogling
At my window my own treasure.
This is human! God in heaven
In our every action guard us!
God in heaven give us blessings,
And with happiness reward us!
7.
O yes, thou art my ideal forsooth,
I’ve often confirmed it till dizzy
With kisses and oaths unnumber’d in truth;--
To-day I however am busy.
Return to-morrow between two and three,
And then a fresh-kindled passion
Shall prove my love, and afterwards we
Will dine in a friendly fashion.
And if I in time the tickets receive,
We’ll join in a merry revel,
And go to the Opera, where I believe
They’re playing Robert the Devil.
A wondrous magic play is here,
With devils’ loves and curses;
The music is by Meyerbeer;
By Scribe the wretched verses.
8.
Dismiss me not, although thy thirst
The pleasant draught has still’d;
Some three months longer keep me on,
Till I too have been fill’d.
If thou my love canst not remain,
O be my friend, I pray;
For when one has outloved one’s love,
Friendship may have its way.
9.
This wild carnival of loving,
This delirium of our bosoms
Comes unto an end, and now we
Soberly gape on each other!
Drain’d the cup is to the bottom,
Brimming with intoxication,
Foaming, glowing to the margin;
Drain’d the cup is to the bottom.
And the fiddles too are silent,
Which for dancing gave the signal,
Signal for the dance of passion;
Yes, the fiddles too are silent.
And the lamps too are extinguish’d,
Which their wild light shed so brightly
On the masquerade exciting;
Yes, the lamps too are extinguish’d.
And to-morrow comes Ash-Wednesday,
When I’ll sign upon thy forehead
With the cross of ashes, saying:
“Woman, that thou’rt dust, forget not.”
10.
O how rapidly develop
From mere fugitive sensations
Passions that are fierce and boundless,
Tenderest associations!
Tow’rds this lady grows the bias
Of my heart on each occasion,
And that I’m enamoured of her
Has become my firm persuasion.
Beauteous is her spirit. Truly
Thus I learn to rise superior
To the overpowering beauty
Of her form and mere exterior.
Ah, what hips! and, ah, what forehead!
Ah, what nose! Could aught serener
Be than this sweet smile she’s wearing?
And how noble her demeanour!
11.
Ah, how fair art thou, whenever
Thou thy mind disclosest sweetly,
And thy language with the grandest
Sentiments o’erflows discreetly!
When thou tell’st me how thou always
Worthily and nobly thoughtest;
How unto thy pride of heart thou
Greatest sacrifices broughtest!
How with countless millions even
Men could woo and win thee never;
Sooner than be sold for money
Thou wouldst quit this world for ever.
And I stand before thee, listening
To the end with due emotion;
Like an image mute of faith, I
Fold my hands with meek devotion.
12.
Have no fear, dear soul, I pray thee,
Thou art safe here evermore;
Fear not lest they’ll take away thee,
For I’ll forthwith bar the door.
Though the wind may roar around us,
It will do no mischief here;
That a fire may not confound us,
Let us put the light out, dear!
Let me in mine arm, dear small one,
Thy enchanting neck enfold;
In the absence of a shawl, one
Gets so very quickly cold.
3. DIANA.
1.
These fair limbs, of size so massive,
Of colossal womanhood,
Now are, in a yielding mood,
Under my embraces passive.
Had I, with unbridled passion,
Trusting in my strength drawn near,
I had soon had cause for fear!
She had thrashed me in strange fashion.
How her bosom, neck, throat charm me
(Higher I can scarcely see);
Ere alone I’d with her be,
Pray I that she may not harm me.
2.
’Twas in the Bay of Biscay
That she first saw the light;
Two kittens in the cradle
She squeezed to death outright.
Across the Pyrenees she
With feet uncover’d ran;
Then for her size gigantic
Was shown at Perpignan.
She’s now the grandest dame in
The Faubourg Saint-Denis,
Where unto small Sir William
Some thousand pounds costs she.
3.
Often when I am with thee,
Much-beloved and noble lady,
The remembrance steals o’er me
Of Bologna’s market shady.
There a massive fount doth stand--
’Tis the Giants’ Fountain pretty--
With a Neptune, by the hand
Of Giovanni of that city.
4. HORTENSE.
1.
Once I thought each kiss a woman
Gives us, or receives instead,
By some influence superhuman
Was from old predestinèd.
I both took and gave back willing
Kisses then as earnestly
As if I were but fulfilling
Actions of necessity.
Kisses are superfluous,--this I
Have discover’d on life’s stage,
And with small concern now kiss I,
Heedless of the surplusage.
2.
Beside the corner of the street
We stood in fond communion
For full an hour, and talked about
Our spirits’ loving union.
We loved each other--this we said
A hundred times repeating;
Beside the corner of the street
We stood, and went on greeting.
The Goddess of Occasion, brisk
As waiting maids, and sprightly,
Pass’d by that way and saw us stand
And smiled, and went on lightly.
3.
In all my dreams by daytime,
In all my watchings nightly,
Thy sweet delicious laughter
Rings through my spirit lightly.
Remember’st Montmorency,
Where, on the donkey riding,
Thou fell’st among the thistles,
From off the saddle gliding?
The ass stood still, the thistles
Demurely looking after,--
I never shall forget, love,
Thy sweet delicious laughter.
4.
(_She speaks._)
In the garden fair a tree stands,
And an apple hangeth there,
And around the trunk a serpent
Coils himself, and I can ne’er
From the serpent’s eyes enchanting
Turn away my troubled sight,
And he whispers words alluring,
And enthrals me with delight.
(_The other one speaks._)
’Tis the fruit of life thou spyest,--
Its delicious flavour taste,
That thy life until thou diest
May not be for ever waste!
Darling dove, sweet child, no sighing!
Quickly taste, and never fear;
Follow my advice, relying
On thy aunt’s sage counsel, dear.
5.
On my newly-tuned guitar I
Play new tunes that seem much fitter
Old the text is, for the words are
Solomon’s: A woman’s bitter.
To her husband she is faithless,
And she treats her friend with malice;
Wormwood are the last remaining
Drops in love’s once-golden chalice.
Tell me, is the ancient legend
Of the curse of sin no libel?
Did the serpent bring it on thee,
As recorded in the Bible?
Creeping on the earth, the serpent
Lurks in every bush around thee,
Still, as formerly, caresses,
And her hisses still confound thee.
Ah, how cold and dark ’tis growing!
Round the sun the ravens hover
Croakingly, and love and rapture
Now for evermore are over.
6.
The bliss that thou didst falsely pledge
For but a short time cheated;
Thine image, like a vision false,
Soon from my bosom fleeted.
The morning came, the mist soon fled
Before the sun’s rays splendid;
And wellnigh ere it had commenced,
Our passing fondness ended.
5. CLARISSA.
1.
All my charming loving offers
Thou art eagerly declining;
If I say: “Is this refusal?”
Thou at once beginnest whining.
Seldom pray I, but now hear me,
Gracious God! O help this maiden!
Dry her sweet tears, and enlighten
Her poor brains so sorrow-laden!
2.
Wheresoever thou mayst wander,
Thou dost every hour behold me,
And I love thee all the fonder,
When thou dost rebuke and scold me.
Charming malice will ensnare me,
While I hate a kindly action;
And the surest way to scare me,
Is to love me to distraction.
3.
May the devil take thy mother
And thy father, for their cruel
Conduct at the play, in hiding
Thee from me, my precious jewel!
There they sat, their spreading dresses
Leaving but few spaces only
Through the which to spy thee sitting
In the box’s rear, all lonely.
There they sat, and saw two lovers
Both destroy’d, with eyes admiring;
And they clapp’d a loud approval
When they saw them both expiring.
4.
Go not through the naughty quarters
Where the pretty eyes are living;
Ah, they fain would spare their lightnings
With a semblance of forgiving.
From the high bow-window looking
In a loving way they greet thee,
Smiling kindly (death and devil!)
Sisterlike their glances meet thee.
But thou’rt on thy way already,
And in vain is all thy striving;
Thou wilt have a very breastful
Of distress, when home arriving.
5.
It comes too late, thy present smiling,
It comes too late, thy present sigh!
The feelings all long since have perish’d
That thou didst spurn so cruelly.
Too late has come thy love responsive,
My heart thou vainly seek’st to stir
With burning looks of love, all falling
Like sunbeams on a sepulchre.
* * * * *
This would I learn: when life is ended,
O whither doth our spirit go?
Where is the flame when once extinguish’d?
The wind, when it hath ceased to blow?
6.
Wounded, in distress, and sickly,
On a lovely summer’s morrow
Men I fly, and bury quickly
In the wood my bitter sorrow.
As I move, in mute compassion
All the noisy birds are vying;
At my grief in wondrous fashion
Each dark linden-tree is sighing.
In the vale I sadly sit on
Some green bank, sweet balm exhaling:
“Kitten! O my pretty kitten!”
And the hills repeat my wailing.
Kitten! O my pretty kitten!
Why delightest thou to do ill?
Sadly is my poor heart smitten
By thy tiger-talons cruel.
For my heart, grown stern and sadden’d,
Long had been to joy a stranger,
Till by new love I was gladden’d
At thy sight, and fear’d no danger.
Thou in secret seem’dst to mew thus:
“Have no fear of being bitten;
“Prythee trust me when I sue thus,
“I’m a very gentle kitten.”
* * * * *
7.
Whilst sweet Philomel in airy
Woods at random sings and wildly,
Thou preferrest the canary
Doubtless, as it flutters mildly.
In the cage I see thee feeding
This small bird, so tame and yellow,
And it picks thy fingers, pleading
For some sugar, pretty fellow!
Charming is the scene and moving!
Angels must enjoy the notion!
I myself, with look approving,
Drop a tear of deep emotion.
8.
With Wedding Gifts the Spring Has Arrived,
With music and exultation;
It brings the bridegroom and the bride
Its hearty congratulation.
It brings its violets, rosebuds fair,
And jasmine and herbs sweet-scented,
And for the bride asparagus too,--
The bridegroom’s with salad contented.
9.
God protect thee from o’erheating,
And thy heart from palpitation,
Keep thee from excessive eating,
And excessive perspiration.
As upon thy day of marriage
May thy love be ever blessèd!
Ne’er the bridal yoke disparage!
Be thy frame with health possessèd!
10.
Pretty maid, if so inclined,
Thou mayst now thus think anent me
This man’s conduct is unkind,
For he’s seeking to torment me;--
Me, who never said a word
That could possibly offend him;
Who, when others’ blame I heard,
Did my utmost to befriend him.
Me, who had resolved in fact
By-and-by to love him dearly,
Had he not begun to act
As if he were frantic nearly!
11.
How thou snarlest, laughest, broodest.
How thou in ill humour twistest,
When thou, to all love a stranger,
Yet on jealousy existest!
’Tis not red and fragrant roses
Thou dost smell and love so dearly;
No, amongst the thorns thou sniffest,
Till they scratch thy nose severely.
6. YOLANTE AND MARY.
1.
Both these ladies know by instinct
How a poet well to treat,
For they ask’d me and my genius
Luncheon with them once to eat.
Ah! the soup was quite delicious,
And the wine was old and rare,
And the game was really heavenly,
And well-larded was the hare.
They of poetry kept talking,
Till I had enough at last,
And I thank’d them for the honour
Of this very kind repast.
2.
With which shall I become enamour’d,
Since both are loveable and mild?
The mother’s still a pretty woman,
The daughter is a pretty child.
The white and inexperienced members
Are very pleasant to the view,
And yet the genial eyes that answer
Our tenderness are charming too.
My heart the jackass grey resembles,
Who when twixt two hay bundles placed,
Eyes them with hesitation, doubting
Which of the two the best will taste.
3.
The bottles are empty, the breakfast was good,
The ladies are gay and impassion’d;
They open their corsets in right merry mood,
Methinks they with point lace are fashion’d.
Their bosoms how fair! Their shoulders how white!
My heart is soon trembling all over;
They presently jump on the bed with delight,
And hide themselves under the cover.
The curtains around them before long they pull,
And snore away, free from intrusion;
I stand in the chamber alone, like a fool,
And stare at the bed in confusion.
4.
Now that I’m fast growing older,
Youth’s by keener fire replaced,
And my arm, becoming bolder,
Circles many a loving waist.
Though at first they were affrighted,
Yet they soon were reconcil’d;
Modest doubts and wrath united
Were o’ercome by flattery mild.
Yet the best of all is wanting
When I taste my victory;
Can it be my youth’s enchanting
Bashful weak stupidity?
5.
This tricolour’d flow’r now worn is
In my breast, to show I’m free,
Proving that my heart freeborn is,
And a foe to slavery.
Sweet Queen Mary, who thy quarters
In my heart hast fix’d, pray list:
Many of earth’s fairest daughters
There have reign’d, then been dismiss’d.
7. EMMA.
1.
He stands as firm as a tree stem,
In heat and tempest and frost;
His toes in the ground are planted,
His arms are heavenward toss’d.
Thus long is Bagíratha tortured,
And Brama his torments would end;
He makes the mighty Ganges
Down from the heavens descend.
But I, my loved one, am vainly
Tormented and stricken with woe;
From out of thine heavenly eyelids
No drops of pity e’er flow.
2.
Four-and-twenty hours I still must
Wait, to see my bliss complete,
As her sidelong glances tell me,
Glances, O how dazzling sweet!
Language is but inexpressive,
Words are awkward and in vain;
Soon as they are said, the pretty
Butterfly flies off again.
But a look may last for ever,
And with joy may fill thy breast,
Making it like some wide heaven,
Full of starry rapture blest.
3.
Not one solitary kiss
After months of loving passion,
So my mouth must still continue
Dry, in very wretched fashion.
Happiness seem’d once at hand,
And her breath I e’en felt nigh me
But without my lips e’er touching,
She, alas! soon fleeted by me.
4.
Emma, for my satisfaction
Say if I’m distracted driven,
By my love, or is love only
The result of my distraction?
Ah! I’m tortured, charming Emma,
Not alone by my mad loving,
Not alone by loving madness,
But besides by this dilemma.
5.
When I’m with thee, strife and need!
So I on my travels started;
Yet my life, when from thee parted,
Is no life, but death indeed.
Pondering all the livelong night,
I ’twixt death and hell lay choosing--
Ah, methinks this strife confusing
Now has driv’n me mad outright!
6.
Fast is creeping on us dreary
Night with many a ghostly shape,
And our souls are growing weary,
And we at each other gape.
Thou art old and I still older,
And our spring has ceased to bloom;
Thou art cold, and I still colder,
At th’ approach of winter’s gloom.
At the end, how all is sadden’d!
After love’s sweet cares are past,
Cares draw nigh, by love ungladden’d,
After life comes death at last.
8. FREDERICA.
1.
O leave Berlin, with its thick-lying sand,
Weak tea, and men who seem so much to know
That they both God, themselves, and all below
With Hegel’s reason only understand.
O come to India, to the sunny land
Where flowers ambrosial their sweet fragrance throw
Where pilgrim troops on tow’rd the Ganges go
With reverence, in white robes, a festal band.
There, where the palm-trees wave, the billows smile,
And on the sacred bank the lotos-tree
Soars up to Indra’s castle blue,--yes there,
There will I kneel to thee in trusting style,
And press against thy foot, and say to thee:
“Madam, thou art the fairest of the fair!”
2.
The Ganges roars; amid the foliage see
The sharp eyes of the antelope, who springs
Disdainfully along; their colour’d wings
The peacocks as they move, show haughtily.
Deep from the bosom of the sunny lea
Rises a newborn race of flowers, sweet things;
With yearning-madden’d voice Cocila sings--
Yes, thou art fair, no woman’s like to thee!
God Cama[9] lurks in all thy features fair,
He dwells within thy bosom’s tents so white,
And breathes to thee the sweetest songs he knows.
Upon thy lips Vassant[10] has made his lair,
I find within thine eyes new worlds of light,
In my own world no more I find repose.
3.
The Ganges roars; the mighty Ganges swells,
The Himalaya glows in evening’s light,
And from the banyan-forest’s gloomy night
The elephantine herd breaks forth and yells.
O for a type to show how she excels!
A typo of thee, so lovely to the sight,
Thee the incomparable, good and bright,
So that sweet rapture in my bosom dwells.
In vain thou see’st me seek for types, and prate,--
See’st me with feelings struggle, and with rhyme,
And, ah, thou smilest at my pangs of love!
But smile! For when thou smil’st, Gandarvas straight
Seize on the sweet guitar, and all the time
Sing in the golden sunny halls above.
9. CATHERINE.
1.
A beauteous star arises o’er my night,
A star which smiles down on me comfort bright,
And new life pledges to supply,--
O do not lie!
As leaps to the moon the sea with sullen roar,
So gladly, wildly, doth my spirit soar
Up to thy blissful light on high,--
O do not lie!
2.
“Will you not be presented to her?”
The duchess whisper’d once to me.
“On no account! for I to woo her
“Methinks have too much modesty.”
How gracefully she stands before me!
I fancy, when I near her go,
A newborn life is stealing o’er me,
With newborn joy and newborn woe.
I’m from her kept as though by anguish,
While yearning drives me to draw near;
Her eyes, as they so sweetly languish,
The wild stars of my fate appear.
Her brow is clear, yet in the distance
The future lightning gathers there,
The storm which, spite of all resistance,
My spirit’s deepest seat will tear.
Her mouth is lovely, but with terror
I see beneath the roses hiss
The serpents which will prove my error,
With honied scorn and treach’rous kiss.
Impell’d by yearning, still more near I
Draw to the dear but dangerous place;
Her darling voice already hear I--
Bright flames her every sentence grace.
“Sir, what’s the name”--I hear her utter
These words--“Of her whose voice I heard?”
I only answer with a stutter:
“Madam, I did not hear one word!”
3.
Yes, I now, a poor magician,
Like sage Merlin, am held fast
In my magic ring at last,
In disconsolate condition.
At her feet imprison’d sweetly
I am lying all the while,
Gazing on her eyes’ sweet smile,
And the hours are passing fleetly.
Thus, for hours, days, weeks behold me!
Like a vision time has fled,
Scarcely know I what I said,
And I know not what she told me.
Just as if her lips were dearly
Press’d to mine, beyond control
I am stirr’d, till in my soul
I can trace the flames full clearly.
4.
Thou lie’st in my arms so gladly.
So gladly thou lie’st on my heart!
I am thy one sole heaven,
My dearest star thou art.
The foolish race of mortals
Is swarming far below;
They’re shouting and storming and scolding,
(And each one is right, I well know)
Their cap and bells they jingle,
And quarrel without a cause,
And with their heavy club-sticks
They break each other’s jaws.
How happy are we, my darling,
That we so far away are;
Thou hidest in thy heaven
Thy head, my dearest star!
5.
I love such white and snowy members,
The thin veil of a spirit tender,
Wild and large eyes, a brow encompass’d
With flowing locks of swarthy splendour.
Thou art indeed the very person
Whom I in every land have sought for,
While girls like thee a man of honour
Like me have always cared and thought for.
The very man thou stand’st in need of
Is found in me. At first thou’lt pay me
Richly with sentiments and kisses,
And then, as usual, wilt betray me.
6.
The spring’s already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.
My darling sitteth by my side,
In carriage onward fleeting;
She looks on me with tender pride,
Her heart, I feel it beating.
What warbling, what fragrance the sun’s light awakes!
Like jewels the verdure is gleaming,
His snowy-blossoming head soon shakes
The sapling with joyous seeming.
The flowers peep forth from the earth to see,
With longing in every feature,
The lovely woman won by me,
And me, the happy creature.
O transient bliss! Across the corn
To-morrow will pass the sickle,
The beauteous spring wither, and I all forlorn
Be left by the woman fickle.
7.
Lately dreamt I I was walking
In the happy realms of heaven,
Walking with thee, for without thee,
Heaven itself would be a hell.
There I saw th’ Elect together,
All the righteous and the godly,
Who had for their souls’ salvation
Mortified on earth their bodies.
Fathers of the Church, apostles,
Capuchins and holy hermits,
Strange old fellows, some strange young ones--
’Twas the latter look’d the ugliest!
Very long and saintly faces,
Ample bald pates, also grey beards
(Various Jews were of the number)
Pass’d us, looking stern and solemn.
Not one look upon thee throwing,
Although thou, my pretty darling,
On my arm wert hanging, toying,
Toying, smiling, and coquetting.
One alone upon thee look’d,
And he was the only handsome,
Handsome man of all the number;
And majestic were his features.
Round his lips was human kindness,
In his eyes divine repose,
And he mildly gazed upon thee
As upon the Magdalene.
Ah! I know, he meant it kindly,
None was e’er so pure and noble,
But I, I was notwithstanding
Moved as by an envious feeling;
And, I must confess, I found it
Far from pleasant up in heaven--
May God pardon me! Our Saviour
Jesus Christ I deem’d intrusive.
8.
Each person to this feast enchanting
His mistress takes, and with delight
Roams in the blooming summer night.
I wander alone, for my loved one is wanting.
Like some sick man, I wander all lonely,
And far from the mirth and dancing go,
The music sweet and the lamps’ bright glow
My thoughts are away, and in England only.
I pluck the pinks and I pluck the roses,
Distractedly and full of woe,
And know not on whom the flow’rs to bestow;
My heart soon withers along with the posies.
9.
Long songless and oppress’d with sadness,
I now compose again with yearning!
Like tears that from us burst with madness
My songs are suddenly returning.
Again I chant, with voice melodious,
Of great love and still greater sorrow;
Of hearts which, to each other odious
To-day, when parted break to-morrow.
I ofttimes think I feel the greeting
Of German oak trees waving o’er me,
With whispers of a glad re-meeting--
A dream! they vanish from before me.
I ofttimes think I hear the singing
Of German nightingales once cherish’d;
Sweetly their notes are round me clinging--
A dream! the vision soon has perish’d.
Where are the roses whose delicious
Perfume once bless’d me? Every blossom
Long since has died! With taint pernicious
Their ghostly scent still haunts my bosom.
10. SONGS OF CREATION.
1.
God at first the sun created,
Then each nightly constellation;
From the sweat of his own forehead
Oxen were his next creation.
Wild beasts he created later,
Lions with their paws so furious;
In the image of the lion
Made he kittens small and curious.
Afterwards, the wilds to people,
Man to spring to being bade he,
And in man’s attractive image
Interesting monkeys made he.
Satan saw it, full of laughter:
“Copies from himself he’s taking!
“In the image of his oxen
“Calves he finally is making.”
2.
To the devil spake the Lord thus:
Copies of myself I’m taking;
After sun come constellations,
After oxen, calves I’m making.
After lions with their furious
Paws, I’m making kittens curious,
After men come monkeys clever:
Thou canst nothing make, however.
3.
I made for my glory and edification
Men, lions, and oxen, and sunlight splendid;
But calves, cats, monkeys, and each constellation
For nought but my own delight I intended.
4.
With one short week of preparation
The whole of the world was made by me
And yet I work’d out the plan of creation
For thousands of years full thoughtfully.
Creation itself is a mere act of motion
That’s easily done in a very short time;
And yet the plan, the primary notion,--
’Tis that that proves the artist sublime.
Three hundred long years have I been taking
In solving the question by slow degrees
As to which was the proper manner of making
Both Doctors of Law and little fleas.
5.
On the sixth day spake the Lord thus:
I have finish’d finally
All this vast and fair creation,
And that all is good, I see.
How the sun’s rays, golden-roselike,
O’er the ocean brightly gleam!
Every tree is green and glittering,
And enamell’d all things seem.
On the plain yon lambkins sporting
Are like alabaster white;
O how natural and perfect
Nature seemeth to the sight!
Earth and heaven alike are teeming
With my glorious majesty,
And through long and endless ages
Man will praise and worship me.
6.
The stuff out of which a poem is wrought
Is not to be suck’d from the finger;
No God created the world from nought
Any more than an earthly singer.
’Twas mud primeval that form’d the source
Whence the body of man I created,
And from the ribs of man in due course
Fair woman I separated.
The heavens I form’d from out of the earth,
And angels from women completed;
The raw material first gets its worth
From being artist’cally treated.
7.
The chiefest reason why I made
The earth, I will confess with gladness:
Within my soul, like fiery madness,
A burning call to do so play’d.
Illness was the especial ground
Of my creative inclination;
I might recover by creation,
Creation made me once more sound.
11. ABROAD.
1.
From place to place thou’rt wandering still,
Thou scarcely knowest why;
A gentle word the wind doth fill,--
Thou look’st round wond’ringly.
My loved one, who was left behind,
Is calling softly now:
“Return, I love thee, O be kind,
My only joy art thou!”
But on, still on, no peace, no rest,
Thou never still mayst be;
What thou of yore didst love the best,
Thou ne’er again shalt see.
2.
Thou art to-day of sadder seeming
Than thou hast been for long before;
Mute tears upon thy cheeks are gleaming,
Thy sighs wax louder more and more.
Of thy far home long vanish’d is it
That thou art thinking, full of pain?
Wouldst thou not joyfully revisit
Thy much-loved fatherland again?
Art thinking now of her who sweetly
With tiny rage enchanted thee?
Vex’d by her oft, ye soon completely
Were reconciled, and laugh’d with glee.
Art thinking of the friends whom yearning
Impell’d to fall upon thy breast?
Within the heart the thoughts were burning,
And yet the lips remain’d at rest.
Or of the sister and the mother
Art thinking, who approved thy suit?
Methinks within thy breast, good brother,
Wild passions fast are growing mute.
Of the fair garden art thou thinking,
Its birds and trees, where love’s young dream
Ofttimes sustain’d thy spirits sinking,
And hope shone forth with trembling beam?
’Tis late. The snow has fallen thickly,
Bright night illumes the humid mass;
I now must go, and hasten quickly
To dress for company,--Alas!
3.
Of my fair fatherland I once was proud;
Beside the stream
The oak soar’d high, the violets gently bow’d;
It was a dream.
German the kisses were, in German too
(Sweet then did seem
The sound) they spake the words: “Yes, I love you!”--
It was a dream.
12. TRAGEDY
1.
O fly with me, and be my wife,
And to my heart for comfort come!
Far, far away hence be my heart,
Thy fatherland and father’s home.
If thou’lt not go, I here will die,
And all alone abandon thee;
And if thou in thy father’s home
Dost stay, thou’lt seem abroad to be.
2.
A genuine national song, heard by Heine on the Rhine.
There fell a frost in a night of spring,
It fell on the tender flowerets blue,
They all soon wither’d and faded.
A youth once loved a maiden full well,
They secretly fled away from the house,
Unknown to father and mother.
They wander’d here and they wander’d there,
And neither joy nor star could they find,
And so they droop’d and they perish’d.
3.
Upon her grave a linden is springing,
Where birds and the evening breeze are singing,
And on the green sward under it
The miller’s boy and his sweetheart sit.
The winds are blowing so softly and fleetly,
The birds are singing so sadly and sweetly,
The prattling lovers are mute by-and-by,
They weep and they know not the reason why.
13. THE TANNHAUSER.
A LEGEND.
(Written in 1836.)
1.
O all good Christians, be on your guard,
Lest Satan’s wiles ensnare you!
I’ll sing you the song of the Tannhauser bold,
That ye may duly beware you.
The noble Tannhauser, a valiant knight,
For love and pleasure yearning,
To the Venus’ mount travell’d, and there he dwelt
Seven years without returning.
“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, farewell!
“Though much thou mayst enchant me,
“No longer will I tarry with thee,
“Permission to leave now grant me.”
“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“To-day you have kept from kissing;
“So kiss me quickly and tell me true,
“What is there in me you find missing?
“Have I each day the sweetest wine
“Not pour’d out for you gaily?
“And have I not always crown’d your head
“With fragrant roses daily?”--
“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, in truth
“My soul no longer finds pleasing
“These endless kisses and luscious wine,--
“I long for something that’s teasing.
“Too much have we jested, too much have we laugh’d,
“My heart for tears has long panted;
“Each rose on my head I fain would see
“By pointed thorns supplanted.”--
“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“You fain would vex and grieve me;
“An oath you have sworn a thousand times
“That you would never leave me.
“Come, let us into the chamber go,
“To taste of love’s rapture and gladness,
“And there my fair and lily-white form
“Shall drive away thy sadness.”--
“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, thy charms
“Will bloom for ever and ever;
“As many already have glow’d for thee,
“So men will forget thee never!
“But when I think of the heroes and gods
“Who erst have taken their pleasure
“In clasping thy fair and lily-white form
“My anger knows no measure.
“Thy fair and lily-white figure with dread
“Is filling me even this minute,
“When thinking how many in after times
“Will still take pleasure in it!”--
“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“You should not utter such treason;
“’T’were better to beat me, as you have before
“Oft done for many a season.
“’T’were better to beat me, than such harsh words
“Of insult thus to have spoken,
“Whereby, O Christian ungrateful and cold,
“The pride in my bosom is broken.
“Because I love you so much, I forgive
“Your evil words, thankless mortal;
“Farewell, I grant you permission to leave,
“I’ll open myself the portal.”
2.
In Rome, in the holy city of Rome,
With singing and ringing and blowing
A grand procession is moving on,
The Pope in the middle is going.
The pious Pope Urban is his name,
The triple crown he is wearing,
He wears a red and purple robe,
And Barons his train are bearing.
“O holy Father, Pope Urban, stay!
“I will not move from my station,
“Until thou hast saved my soul from hell,
“And heard my supplication!”--
The ghostly songs are suddenly mute,
The people fall backwards dumbly;
O who is the pilgrim pale and wild
Who bends to the Pope so humbly?
“O holy Father, Pope Urban, to whom
“To bind and to loose not too much is,
“O save me from the pangs of hell,
“And out of the Evil One’s clutches!
“By name, I’m the noble Tannhauser call’d;
“For love and pleasure yearning,
“To the Venus’ mount I travell’d and dwelt
“Seven years there without returning.
“This Venus is a woman fair
“With charms of dazzling splendour;
Like light of sun and flowers’ sweet scent
“Her voice is gentle and tender.
“As a butterfly flutters around a flower
“And from its calyx sips too,
So flutters my soul for evermore
“Around her rosy lips too.
“Around her noble features entwine
“Her blooming black locks wildly;
Thy breath would be gone if once her great eyes
“Were fix’d upon thee mildly.
“If her great eyes upon thee were fix’d
“They surely would harass thee greatly;
’Twas with the greatest trouble that I
“Escaped from the mountain lately.
“From out of the mountain I made my escape
“And yet for ever pursue me
“The looks of the beautiful woman, which seem
“To say ‘O hasten back to me!’
“A wretched spectre by day I’ve become,
“At night I vainly would hide me
“In sleep, for I dream that my mistress dear
“Is sitting and laughing beside me.
“How clearly, how sweetly, how madly she laughs
“Her white teeth all the while showing!
“Whenever I think of that laugh, in streams
“The tears from my eyes begin flowing.
“I love her indeed with a boundless love
“That scorches me up to a cinder;
“’Tis like a wild waterfall, whose fierce flood
“No barrier ever can hinder.
“It nimbly leaps from rock to rock
“With noisy foaming and boiling;
“Its neck it may break a thousand times,
“Yet on, still on, it keeps toiling.
“If all the expanse of the heavens were mine,
“To Venus the whole I’d surrender;
“I’d give her the sun, I’d give her the moon,
“I’d give her the stars in their splendour.
“I love her indeed with a boundless love,
“Whose flame within me rages;
“O say can this be the fire of hell,
“The glow that will last through all ages?
“O holy Father, Pope Urban, to whom
“To bind and to loose not too much is,
“O save me from the pangs of hell,
“And out of the Evil One’s clutches!--”
His hands the Pope raised sadly on high,
And sigh’d till these words he had spoken:
“Tannhauser, most unhappy knight,
“The charm can never be broken.
“The Devil whom they Venus call
“Is mighty for hurting and harming;
“I’m powerless quite to rescue thee
“From out of his talons so charming.
“And so thy soul must expiate now
Thy fleshly lusts infernal;
Yes, thou art rejected, yes, thou art condemn’d
To suffer hell’s torments eternal.”
3.
The knight Tannhauser roam’d on till his feet
Were sore with his wanderings dreary.
At midnight’s hour he came at length
To the Venus’ mountain, full weary.
Fair Venus awoke from out of her sleep,
And out of her bed sprang lightly,
And clasp’d her fair and lily-white arms
Around her beloved one tightly.
From out of her nose the blood fell fast,
The tears from her eyes descended;
She cover’d the face of her darling knight
With blood and tears closely blended.
The knight lay quietly down in the bed,
And not one word has he spoken;
While Venus went to the kitchen, to make
Some soup, that his fast might be broken.
She gave him soup, and she gave him bread,
She wash’d his wounded feet, too;
She comb’d his rough and matted hair,
And laugh’d with a laugh full sweet, too.
“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“Full long hast thou been wandering;
“O say in what lands hast thou thy time
“So far from hence been squandering?”
“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, in truth
“In Italy I have been staying;
“I’ve had some bus’ness in Rome, and now
“Return without further delaying.
“Rome stands on the Tiber, just at the spot
“Where seven hills are meeting;
“In Rome I also beheld the Pope,--
“The Pope he sends thee his greeting.
“And Florence I saw, when on my return,
“And then through Milan I hasted,
“And next through Switzerland scrambled fast,
“And not one moment wasted.
“And when I travell’d over the Alps,
“The snow already was falling;
“The blue lakes sweetly on me smiled,
“The eagles were circling and calling.
“And when on the Mount St. Gothard I stood,
“Below me snored Germany loudly;
“Beneath the mild sway of thirty-six kings
“It slumber’d calmly and proudly.
“In Swabia I saw the poetical school
“Of dear little simpleton creatures;
“They sat together all ranged in a row,
“With very diminutive features.
“In Dresden I saw a certain dog,
“A sprig of the aristocracy;
“His teeth he had lost, and bark’d and yell’d
“Like one of the vulgar democracy.
“At Weimar, the Muses’ widow’d seat,
“I heard them their sentiments giving;
“They wept and lamented that Goethe was dead,
“And Eckermann still ’mongst the living!
“At Potsdam I heard a very loud cry,--
“I said in amaze: ‘What’s the matter?’--
“’Tis Gans[11] at Berlin, who last century’s tale
“Is reading and making this clatter.’
“At Göttingen knowledge was blossoming still,
“But bringing no fruit to perfection;
“’Twas dark as pitch when I got there at night,
“No light was in any direction.
“In the bridewell at Zell Hanoverians alone
“Were confined; at our next Reformation
“A national bridewell and one common lash
“We must have for the whole German nation.
“At Hamburg, in that excellent town,
“Many terrible rascals dwell still;
“And when I wander’d about the Exchange,
“I fancied myself in Zell still!
“At Hamburg I Altona saw; ’tis a spot
“In a charming situation;
“And all my adventures that there I met
“I’ll tell on another occasion.”[12]
14. ROMANCES.
1. A WOMAN.
They loved each other beyond belief,
The woman a rogue was, the man was a thief;
At each piece of knavery, daily
She fell on the bed, laughing gaily.
In joy and pleasure they pass’d the day,
Upon his bosom all night she lay;
When they carried him off to Old Bailey,
At the window she stood, laughing gaily.
He sent her this message: O come to me,
I yearn, my love, so greatly for thee;
I want thee, I pine, and look palely,--
Her head she but shook, laughing gaily.
At six in the morning they hang’d the knave,
At seven they laid him down in his grave;
At eight on her ears this fell stalely,
And a bumper she drank, laughing gaily.
2. CELEBRATION OF SPRING.
O list to this spring time’s terrible jest!
In savage troops the maidens fair
Are rushing along with fluttering hair,
And howls of anguish and naked breast:--
Adonis! Adonis!
The night falls fast. By torchlight clear
They sadly explore each forest track,
Which mournful answers is echoing back
Of laughter, sobs, sighs, and cries of fear:--
Adonis! Adonis!
That youthful figure, so wondrous fair,
Now lies on the ground all pale and dead;
His blood has dyed each floweret red,
And mournful sighs resound through the air:--
Adonis! Adonis!
3. CHILDE HAROLD.
Slow and weary, moves a dreary
Stout black bark the stream along;
Visors wearing, all-uncaring,
Funeral mutes the benches throng.
’Mongst them dumbly, with his comely
Face upturn’d, the dead bard lies;
Living seeming, toward the beaming
Light of heaven still turn his eyes.
From the water, like a daughter
Of the stream’s voice, comes a sigh,
And with wailing unavailing
’Gainst the bark the waves dash high.
4. THE EXORCISM.
The young Franciscan friar sits
In his cloister silent and lonely;
He reads a magical book, which speaks
Of exorcisms only.
And when the hour of midnight knell’d,
An impulse resistless came o’er him;
The underground spirits with pallid lips
He summon’d to rise up before him:
“Ye spirits! Go, fetch me from out of the grave
The corpse of my mistress cherish’d;
For this one night restore her to life,
Rekindling joys long perish’d.”
The fearful exorcising word
He breathes, and his wish is granted;
The poor dead beauty in grave-clothes white
Appears to his vision enchanted.
Her look is mournful; her ice-cold breast
Her sighs of grief cannot smother;
The dead one sits herself down by the monk,
In silence they gaze on each other.
5. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.
(_The Sun speaks._)
What matter all my looks to thee?
It is the well-known right of the sun
To shed down his rays on ev’ry one;
I beam because ’tis proper for me.
What matter all my looks to thee?
Thy duties bear in mind, poor elf;
Quick, marry, and get a son to thyself,
And so a German worthy be!
I beam because ’tis proper for me.
I wander up and down in the sky,
From mere _ennui_ I peep from on high--
What matter all my looks to thee?
(_The Poet speaks._)
It is in truth my special merit
That I can bear thy radiant light,
Pledge of an endless youthful spirit,
Thou dazzling beauty, blest and bright.
But now mine eyes are growing weary,
On my poor eyelids fast are falling,
Like a black covering, the dreary
Dark shades of night with gloom appalling.
(_Chorus of Monkeys._)
We monkeys, we monkeys,
Like impudent flunkies,
Stare at the sun,
Who can’t prevent its being done.
(_Chorus of Frogs._)
The water is better,
But also much wetter
Than ’tis in the air,
And merrily there
We love to gaze
On the sun’s bright rays.
(_Chorus of Moles._)
How foolish people are to chatter
Of beams and sunny rays bewitching
With us, they but produce an itching
We scratch it and so end the matter.
(_A Glow-worm speaks._)
How boastingly the sun displays
His very fleeting daily rays!
But I’m not so immodest quite,
And yet I’m an important light,--
I mean by night, I mean by night!
6. THE EVIL STAR.
The star, after beaming so brightly,
From the sky fell, a vision unsightly,
What is the love by poets sung?
A star amid a heap of dung.
Like a poor mangy dog, when he’s dying,
Beneath all this filth it is lying;
Shrill crows the cock, loud grunts the sow,
And wallows in the fearful slough.
In the garden O had I descended,
By fair flowerets lovingly tended,
Where I oft yearn’d to find my doom,
A virgin death, a fragrant tomb!
7. ANNO 1829.
Give me a wide and noble field
Where I may perish decently!
O let me in this narrow world
Of shops be not condemned to die!
They eat full well, they drink full well,
And revel in their mole-like bliss;
Their magnanimity’s as great
As any poor-box opening is.
Cigars they carry in their mouths,
Their hands we in their breeches view,
And their digestive powers are great,--
O could we but digest them too!
They trade in every spice that grows
Upon the earth, yet we can trace,
Despite their spices, in the air
The odour of a grovelling race.
Could I some great transgressions, yes,
Colossal bloody crimes but see,--
Aught but this virtue flat and tame,
This solvent strict morality!
Ye clouds on high, O bear me hence,
To some far spot without delay!
To Lapland or to Africa,
To Pomerania e’en--away!
O bear me hence!--They hearken not--
The clouds on high so prudent are!
They fly above this town, to seek
With trembling haste some region far.
8. ANNO 1839.
Dear distant Germany, how often
I weep when I remember thee!
Gay France my sorrow cannot soften,
Her merry race gives pain to me.
In Paris, in this witty region,
’Tis cold dry reason that now reigns;
O bells of folly and religion,
How sweetly sound at home your strains!
Courteous the men! Their salutation
I yet return with feelings sad;
The rudeness shown in every station
In my own country made me glad!
Smiling the women! but their clatter,
Like millwheels, never seems to cease;
The Germans (not to mince the matter)
Prefer I, who lie down in peace.
And all things here with restless passion
Keep whirling, like some madden’d dream;
With us, they move in jog-trot fashion,
And well-nigh void of motion seem.
Methinks I hear the distant ringing
Of the soft bugle’s notes serene;
The watchman’s songs I hear them singing,
With Philomel’s sweet strains between.
At home the bard, a happy vagrant
In Schilda’s oak woods loved to rove;
From moonbeams fair and violets fragrant
My tender verses there I wove.
9. AT DAWN.
On the Faubourg Saint Marçeau
Lay the mist this very morning,
Mist of autumn, heavy, thick,
And a white-hued night resembling.
Wandering through this white-hued night,
I beheld before me gliding
An enchanting female form
Which the moon’s sweet light resembled.
Yes, she was, like moonlight sweet,
Lightly floating, tender, graceful;
Such a slender shape of limbs
I had here in France ne’er witness’d.
Was it Luna’s self perchance,
Who with some young dear and handsome
Fond Endymion had to-day
In th’ Quartier Latin been ling’ring?
On my way home thus I thought:
Wherefore fled she when she saw me?
Did the Goddess think that I
Was perchance the Sun-God Phœbus?
10. SIR OLAVE.
I.
At the door of the cathedral
Stand two men, both wearing red coats,
And the first one is the monarch,
And the headsman is the other.
To the headsman spake the monarch:
“By the priest’s song I can gather
“That the wedding is now finish’d--
“Keep thy trusty hatchet ready!”
To the sound of bells and organ
From the church the people issue
In a motley throng, and ’mongst them
Move the gay-dress’d bridal couple.