Din sång, hur skön, hur underbar!
En balsamdoft på dina läppar hvila,
En välljudsström från ditt hjarta ila,
Vill mana fram ur verldens haf ett svar:
Din sång, hur skön, hur underbar!
Din ton, hur stark, hur ljuf, hur ren!
En altareld som ingen flägt få störa,
Och dock en storm som sjalens djup kan röra,
En glod som smalta kan "de visas sten":
Så är din ton--så stark, så ren.
Sjung mer, sjung mer, det här så godt
En stund få glämma verldens hvimmel
Och lyss till samklang ur en öppnad himmel,
Om ock för en minut i drömma blott:
Sjung mer, sjung mer, det gör mit hjärta godt.
(Translated literally)
Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful!
A perfume of balsam rests on your lips,
A torrent of melody rushes from your heart,
That can only be echoed by the world's ocean:
Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful!
Your voice, how full of power, how enchanting and pure!
A sacred fire which no breeze can trouble,
And yet a tempest that stirs the very soul,
A glowing flame which can melt the philosopher's stone:
Such is your voice--so powerful, so pure.
Sing more, sing more, it is so good
For one moment to forget the tumult of this world
And listen to the harmony of a heaven unveiled,
And if only for a moment to dream:
Sing more, sing more, it makes my heart rejoice.
We sang the duet after dinner with such success that we had to repeat it.
Before our departure there was a grand display of fireworks: O's appeared
in every dimension and design, and a blaze of fire and Bengal lights in
rapid succession kept us in a continual state of admiration.
I received a little note from Jenny Lind. She is in Paris, and wished to
know when she could come to see me. I wrote to her directly that I would
let Monsieur Auber know, and he would probably come at four o'clock (his
usual hour). Therefore, it all came about. Jenny Lind came, so did Auber.
The meeting was a pleasure to them both. They talked music, art, told many
anecdotes of celebrated acquaintances: Alboni, Nilsson, Patti, etc. He had
brought some of his music with him, and Jenny Lind and I sang the duo of
his latest opera "Le Premier Jour de Bonheur." He consulted me as to
whether he might dare to ask her to dine with him, with a few congenial
spirits. I said I was sure she would be enchanted to do so, which she was.
As to the congenial spirits, Auber suggested the Metternichs, Gounod, Duke
de Massa, and ourselves, making ten in all.
No one refused, and we had the most delightful dinner. The Princess
proposed to Auber to give his arm to Jenny Lind, and to put her at his
right hand, _la place d'honneur_, adding, with her most ironical smile,
"le génie avant la beauté." Auber made a charming host, telling one funny
anecdote after the other in his quiet and typical manner. Gounod, in his
low and drawly voice, said: "Vous nous donnez, mon cher Auber, des choses
par trop ennuyeuses aux concerts du Conservatoire. A la pensée des
'Quatre saisons' de Haydn je m'endors. Pourquoi ne s'est-il pas contenté
d'une saison?" Princess Metternich replied, "Que probablement en les
composant Haydn s'est mis en quatre." "La moitié m'aurait suffi," said
Auber; "pour moi, elles sont toutes _mon automne_." (monotone).
When we returned to the salon we discreetly waited for the promised song.