Life and Existence

Winter Journey Over The Hartz Mountain

LIKE the vulture
Who on heavy morning clouds
With gentle wing reposing
Looks for his prey,--
Hover, my song!


For a God hath
Unto each prescribed
His destined path,
Which the happy one
Runs o'er swiftly
To his glad goal:
He whose heart cruel
Fate hath contracted,
Struggles but vainly
Against all the barriers
The brazen thread raises,
But which the harsh shears
Must one day sever.


Through gloomy thickets
Presseth the wild deer on,
And with the sparrows
Long have the wealthy
Settled themselves in the marsh.


Easy 'tis following the chariot
That by Fortune is driven,
Like the baggage that moves
Over well-mended highways
After the train of a prince.


But who stands there apart?
In the thicket, lost is his path;
Behind him the bushes
Are closing together,
The grass springs up again,
The desert engulphs him.


Ah, who'll heal his afflictions,
To whom balsam was poison,
Who, from love's fullness,
Drank in misanthropy only?
First despised, and now a despiser,
He, in secret, wasteth
All that he is worth,
In a selfishness vain.
If there be, on thy psaltery,
Father of Love, but one tone
That to his ear may be pleasing,
Oh, then, quicken his heart!
Clear his cloud-enveloped eyes



Over the thousand fountains
Close by the thirsty one
In the desert.


Thou who createst much joy,
For each a measure o'erflowing,
Bless the sons of the chase
When on the track of the prey,
With a wild thirsting for blood,
Youthful and joyous
Avenging late the injustice
Which the peasant resisted
Vainly for years with his staff.


But the lonely one veil
Within thy gold clouds!
Surround with winter-green,
Until the roses bloom again,
The humid locks,
Oh Love, of thy minstrel!


With thy glimmering torch
Lightest thou him
Through the fords when 'tis night,
Over bottomless places
On desert-like plains;
With the thousand colours of morning
Gladd'nest his bosom;
With the fierce-biting storm
Bearest him proudly on high;
Winter torrents rush from the cliffs,--
Blend with his psalms;
An altar of grateful delight
He finds in the much-dreaded mountain's
Snow-begirded summit,
Which foreboding nations
Crown'd with spirit-dances.


Thou stand'st with breast inscrutable,
Mysteriously disclosed,
High o'er the wondering world,
And look'st from clouds
Upon its realms and its majesty,
Which thou from the veins of thy brethren
Near thee dost water.

Wedding Night

Far from the feasting, in the bedroom
Sits loyal Amor and quakes with dread:
What if the guests become too zestful,
Break the peace of the bridal bed?
A mystical and holy shimmer
Flows from his pale flames of gold;
For you both a whirl of incense
Readies pleasures manifold.


How throbs your heart as chiming timepiece
Chases noisy guests away;
Any moment, lips you burn for
Nought will utter, nought gainsay.
You hasten with her to the temple,
There to consummate your bliss;
The guardian holds aloft his flambeau,
Still and small as a taper is.


How she trembles with your kisses,
Bosom, lips, and cheeks, and brow:
His severities are shivers,
Your derring-do is duty now.
Quick, Amor helps you undress her,
He has half your enterprise;
Roguish, then, but also modest,
He'll be closing both his eyes.

Welcome And Farewell

QUICK throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste,

And lo! 'twas done with speed of light;
The evening soon the world embraced,
And o'er the mountains hung the night.


Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak,


A tow'ring giant in his size,
Where darkness through the thicket broke,
And glared with hundred gloomy eyes.
From out a hill of clouds the moon
With mournful gaze began to peer:


The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon,


And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear;
The night a thousand monsters made,
Yet fresh and joyous was my mind;


What fire within my veins then play'd!
What glow was in my bosom shrin'd!
I saw thee, and with tender pride
Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me;


While all my heart was at thy side.


And every breath I breath'd for thee.
The roseate hues that spring supplies
Were playing round thy features fair,


And love for me--ye Deities!
I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er!
But, when the morning sun return'd,
Departure filled with grief my heart:


Within thy kiss, what rapture burn'd!


But in thy look, what bitter smart!
I went--thy gaze to earth first roved
Thou follow'dst me with tearful eye:


And yet, what rapture to be loved!
And, Gods, to love--what ecstasy!

Venetian Epigrams I

Sarcophagi, urns, were all covered with lifelike scenes,
fauns dancing with girls from a Bacchanalian choir,
paired-off, goat-footed creatures puffing their cheeks,
forcing ear-splitting notes from the blaring horns.
Cymbals and drumbeats, the marble is seen and is heard.
How delightful the fruit in the beaks of fluttering birds!
No startling noise can scare them, or scare away love,
Amor, whose torch waves more gladly in this happy throng.
So fullness overcomes death, and the ashes within
seem still, in their silent house, to feel love’s delight.
So may the Poet’s sarcophagus be adorned,
with this book the writer has filled with the beauty of life.

Three Palinodias - 03 Rain And Rainbow

DURING a heavy storm it chanced
That from his room a cockney glanced
At the fierce tempest as it broke,
While to his neighbour thus he spoke:
"The thunder has our awe inspired,
Our barns by lightning have been fired,--
Our sins to punish, I suppose;
But in return, to soothe our woes,
See how the rain in torrents fell,
Making the harvest promise well!
But it's a rainbow that I spy
Extending o'er the dark-grey sky?
With it I'm sure we may dispense,
The colour'd cheat! The vain pretence!"
Dame Iris straightway thus replied:
"Dost dare my beauty to deride?
In realms of space God station'd me
A type of better worlds to be
To eyes that from life's sorrows rove
In cheerful hope to Heav'n above,
And, through the mists that hover here
God and his precepts blest revere.
Do thou, then, grovel like the swine,
And to the ground thy snout confine,
But suffer the enlighten'd eye
To feast upon my majesty."

To Charlotte

'MIDST the noise of merriment and glee,

'Midst full many a sorrow, many a care,
Charlotte, I remember, we remember thee,
How, at evening's hour so fair,

Thou a kindly hand didst reach us,
When thou, in some happy place
Where more fair is Nature s face,
Many a lightly-hidden trace


Of a spirit loved didst teach us.
Well 'tis that thy worth I rightly knew,--
That I, in the hour when first we met,
While the first impression fill'd me yet,


Call'd thee then a girl both good and true.
Rear'd in silence, calmly, knowing nought,
On the world we suddenly are thrown;


Hundred thousand billows round us sport;


All things charm us--many please alone,
Many grieve us, and as hour on hour is stealing,
To and fro our restless natures sway;


First we feel, and then we find each feeling
By the changeful world-stream borne away.
Well I know, we oft within us find
Many a hope and many a smart.


Charlotte, who can know our mind?


Charlotte, who can know our heart?
Ah! 'twould fain be understood, 'twould fain o'erflow
In some creature's fellow-feelings blest,


And, with trust, in twofold measure know
All the grief and joy in Nature's breast.
Then thine eye is oft around thee cast,
But in vain, for all seems closed for ever.

Thus the fairest part of life is madly pass'd


Free from storm, but resting never:

To thy sorrow thou'rt to-day repell'd
By what yesterday obey'd thee.
Can that world by thee be worthy held

Which so oft betray'd thee?
Which, 'mid all thy pleasures and thy pains,
Lived in selfish, unconcern'd repose?


See, the soul its secret cells regains,


And the heart--makes haste to close.
Thus found I thee, and gladly went to meet thee;
"She's worthy of all love!" I cried,


And pray'd that Heaven with purest bliss might greet thee,
Which in thy friend it richly hath supplied.

Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Decent Into Hell

WHAT wondrous noise is heard around!
Through heaven exulting voices sound,


A mighty army marches on
By thousand millions follow'd, lo,
To yon dark place makes haste to go


God's Son, descending from His throne!
He goes--the tempests round Him break,


As Judge and Hero cometh He;
He goes--the constellations quake,
The sun, the world quake fearfully.


I see Him in His victor-car,
On fiery axles borne afar,


Who on the cross for us expired.
The triumph to yon realms He shows,--
Remote from earth, where star ne'er glows,


The triumph He for us acquired.
He cometh, Hell to extirpate,


Whom He, by dying, wellnigh kill'd;
He shall pronounce her fearful fate
Hark! now the curse is straight fulfill'd.


Hell sees the victor come at last,
She feels that now her reign is past,


She quakes and fears to meet His sight;
She knows His thunders' terrors dread,
In vain she seeks to hide her head,


Attempts to fly, but vain is flight;
Vainly she hastes to 'scape pursuit


And to avoid her Judge's eye;
The Lord's fierce wrath restrains her foot
Like brazen chains,--she cannot fly.


Here lies the Dragon, trampled down,
He lies, and feels God's angry frown,


He feels, and grinneth hideously;
He feels Hell's speechless agonies,
A thousand times he howls and sighs:


"Oh, burning flames! quick, swallow me!"
There lies he in the fiery waves,



By torments rack'd and pangs infernal,
Instant annihilation craves,
And hears, those pangs will be eternal.


Those mighty squadrons, too, are here,
The partners of his cursed career,


Yet far less bad than he were they.
Here lies the countless throng combined,
In black and fearful crowds entwined,


While round him fiery tempests play;
He sees how they the Judge avoid,


He sees the storm upon them feed,
Yet is not at the sight o'erjoy'd,
Because his pangs e'en theirs exceed.


The Son of Man in triumph passes
Down to Hell's wild and black morasses,


And there unfolds His majesty.
Hell cannot bear the bright array,
For, since her first created day.


Darkness alone e'er govern'd she.
She lay remote from ev'ry light


With torments fill'd in Chaos here;
God turn'd for ever from her sight
His radiant features' glory clear.


Within the realms she calls her own,
She sees the splendour of the Son,


His dreaded glories shining forth;
She sees Him clad in rolling thunder,
She sees the rocks all quake with wonder,


When God before her stands in wrath.
She sees He comes her Judge to be,


She feels the awful pangs inside her,
Herself to slay endeavours she,
But e'en this comfort is denied her.


Now looks she back, with pains untold,
Upon those happy times of old,


When those glories gave her joy;
When yet her heart revered the truth,
When her glad soul, in endless youth



And rapture dwelt, without alloy.
She calls to mind with madden'd thought


How over man her wiles prevail'd;
To take revenge on God she sought,
And feels the vengeance it entail'd.


God was made man, and came to earth.
Then Satan cried with fearful mirth:


"E'en He my victim now shall be!"
He sought to slay the Lord Most High,
The world's Creator now must die;


But, Satan, endless woe to thee!
Thou thought'st to overcome Him then,


Rejoicing in His suffering;
But he in triumph comes again
To bind thee: Death! where is thy sting?


Speak, Hell! where is thy victory?
Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see!


Know'st thou not now the Highest's might?
See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown!


By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down,
Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.


As though by lightning struck thou liest,
No gleam of rapture far or wide;


In vain! no hope thou there decriest,--
For me alone Messiah died!


A howling rises through the air,
A trembling fills each dark vault there,


When Christ to Hell is seen to come.
She snarls with rage, but needs must cower
Before our mighty hero's power;


He signs--and Hell is straightway dumb.
Before his voice the thunders break,


On high His victor-banner blows;
E'en angels at His fury quake,
When Christ to the dread judgment goes.


Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder,



He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder,


His breath is like devouring flames.
Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accurs'd!
He who from Eden hurl'd you erst,


Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims.
Look up! My children once were ye,


Your arms against Me then ye turn'd,
Ye fell, that ye might sinners be,
Ye've now the wages that ye earn'd.


"My greatest foeman from that day,
Ye led my dearest friends astray,--


As ye had fallen, man must fall.
To kill him evermore ye sought,
'They all shall die the death,' ye thought;


But howl! for Me I won them all.
For them alone did I descend,


For them pray'd, suffer'd, perish'd I.
Ye ne'er shall gain your wicked end;
Who trusts in Me shall never die.


"In endless chains here lie ye now,
Nothing can save you from the slough.


Not boldness, not regret for crime.
Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire!
'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire,


Lie and lament throughout all time!
And also ye, whom I selected,


E'en ye forever I disown,
For ye My saving grace rejected
Ye murmur? blame yourselves alone!


"Ye might have lived with Me in bliss,
For I of yore had promis'd this;


Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted
Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt,
Now is My fearful judgment felt,


By a just doom your guilt requited."--
Thus spake He, and a fearful storm


From Him proceeds, the lightnings glow,



The thunders seize each wicked form,
And hurl them in the gulf below.


The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors,
In all His majesty He soars


From those dark regions back to light.
He sitteth at the Father's side;
Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide!


For us, for us He still will fight!
The angels sacred quire around


Rejoice before the mighty Lord,
So that all creatures hear the sound:
"Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!"

Three Palinodias - 01

"Incense is hut a tribute for the gods,--
To mortals 'tis but poison."

THE smoke that from thine altar blows,
Can it the gods offend?
For I observe thou hold'st thy nose--


Pray what does this portend?


Mankind deem incense to excel
Each other earthly thing,
So he that cannot bear its smell,


No incense e'er should bring.
With unmoved face by thee at least
To dolls is homage given;


If not obstructed by the priest,
The scent mounts up to heaven.

The Wedding Night

WITHIN the chamber, far away

From the glad feast, sits Love in dread
Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,
The silence of the bridal bed.


His torch's pale flame serves to gild


The scene with mystic sacred glow;
The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,
That ye may perfect rapture know.
How beats thy heart, when thou dost hear
The chime that warns thy guests to fly!


How glow'st thou for those lips so dear,


That soon are mute, and nought deny!
With her into the holy place
Thou hast'nest then, to perfect all;


The fire the warder's hands embrace,
Grows, like a night-light, dim and small.
How heaves her bosom, and how burns
Her face at every fervent kiss!


Her coldness now to trembling turns,


Thy daring now a duty is.
Love helps thee to undress her fast,
But thou art twice as fast as he;


And then he shuts both eye at last,
With sly and roguish modesty.

The Wanderer's Storm-Song

He whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Feels no dread within his heart
At the tempest or the rain.
He whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Will to the rain-clouds,
Will to the hailstorm,
Sing in reply
As the lark sings,
Oh thou on high!


Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Thou wilt raise above the mud-track
With thy fiery pinions.
He will wander,
As, with flowery feet,
Over Deucalion's dark flood,
Python-slaying, light, glorious,
Pythius Apollo.


Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Thou wilt place upon thy fleecy pinion
When he sleepeth on the rock,--
Thou wilt shelter with thy guardian wing
In the forest's midnight hour.


Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Thou wilt wrap up warmly
In the snow-drift;
Tow'rd the warmth approach the Muses,
Tow'rd the warmth approach the Graces.


Ye Muses, hover round me!
Ye Graces also!
That is water, that is earth,
And the son of water and of earth
Over which I wander,
Like the gods.


Ye are pure, like the heart of the water,
Ye are pure like the marrow of earth,
Hov'ring round me, while I hover
Over water, o'er the earth
Like the gods.


Shall he, then, return,
The small, the dark, the fiery peasant?
Shall he, then, return, waiting
Only thy gifts, oh Father Bromius,
And brightly gleaming, warmth-spreading fire?
Return with joy?
And I, whom ye attended,
Ye Muses and ye Graces,



Whom all awaits that ye,
Ye Muses and ye Graces,
Of circling bliss in life
Have glorified--shall I
Return dejected?


Father Bromius!
Thourt the Genius,
Genius of ages,
Thou'rt what inward glow
To Pindar was,
What to the world
Phoebus Apollo.


Woe! Woe Inward warmth,
Spirit-warmth,
Central-point!
Glow, and vie with
Phoebus Apollo!
Coldly soon
His regal look
Over thee will swiftly glide,-


Envy-struck
Linger o'er the cedar's strength,
Which, to flourish,
Waits him not.


Why doth my lay name thee the last?
Thee, from whom it began,
Thee, in whom it endeth,
Thee, from whom it flows,
Jupiter Pluvius!
Tow'rd thee streams my song.
And a Castalian spring
Runs as a fellow-brook,
Runs to the idle ones,
Mortal, happy ones,
Apart from thee,
Who cov'rest me around,
Jupiter Pluvius!


Not by the elm-tree
Him didst thou visit,
With the pair of doves
Held in his gentle arm,--
With the beauteous garland of roses,--
Caressing him, so blest in his flowers,
Anacreon,
Storm-breathing godhead!
Not in the poplar grove,
Near the Sybaris' strand,



Not on the mountain's
Sun-illumined brow
Didst thou seize him,
The flower-singing,
Honey-breathing,
Sweetly nodding
Theocritus.


When the wheels were rattling,
Wheel on wheel tow'rd the goal,
High arose
The sound of the lash
Of youths with victory glowing,
In the dust rolling,
As from the mountain fall
Showers of stones in the vale--
Then thy soul was brightly glowing, Pindar--
Glowing? Poor heart!


There, on the hill,--
Heavenly might!
But enough glow
Thither to wend,
Where is my cot!

The Wanderer

WANDERER.

YOUNG woman, may God bless thee,
Thee, and the sucking infant
Upon thy breast!
Let me, 'gainst this rocky wall,
Neath the elm-tree's shadow,
Lay aside my burden,
Near thee take my rest.


WOMAN.


What vocation leads thee,
While the day is burning,
Up this dusty path?
Bring'st thou goods from out the town
Round the country?
Smil'st thou, stranger,
At my question?


WANDERER.


From the town no goods I bring.
Cool is now the evening;
Show to me the fountain
'Whence thou drinkest,
Woman young and kind!


WOMAN.


Up the rocky pathway mount;
Go thou first! Across the thicket
Leads the pathway tow'rd the cottage
That I live in,
To the fountain
Whence I drink.


WANDERER.


Signs of man's arranging hand
See I 'mid the trees!
Not by thee these stones were join'd,
Nature, who so freely scatterest!


WOMAN.


Up, still up!


WANDERER.


Lo, a mossy architrave is here!
I discern thee, fashioning spirit!



On the stone thou hast impress'd thy seal.
WOMAN.
Onward, stranger!
WANDERER.
Over an inscription am I treading!


'Tis effaced!
Ye are seen no longer,
Words so deeply graven,
Who your master's true devotion
Should have shown to thousand grandsons!


WOMAN.
At these stones, why
Start'st thou, stranger?


Many stones are lying yonder
Round my cottage.
WANDERER.
Yonder?
WOMAN.
Through the thicket,


Turning to the left,
Here!
WANDERER.
Ye Muses and ye Graces!
WOMAN.
This, then, is my cottage.
WANDERER.
'Tis a ruin'd temple!


WOMAN.
Just below it, see,
Springs the fountain
Whence I drink.


WANDERER.



Thou dost hover
O'er thy grave, all glowing,
Genius! while upon thee
Hath thy master-piece
Fallen crumbling,
Thou Immortal One!


WOMAN.


Stay, a cup I'll fetch thee
Whence to drink.


WANDERER.


Ivy circles thy slender
Form so graceful and godlike.
How ye rise on high
From the ruins,
Column-pair
And thou, their lonely sister yonder,--
How thou,
Dusky moss upon thy sacred head,--
Lookest down in mournful majesty
On thy brethren's figures
Lying scatter'd
At thy feet!
In the shadow of the bramble
Earth and rubbish veil them,
Lofty grass is waving o'er them
Is it thus thou, Nature, prizest
Thy great masterpiece's masterpiece?
Carelessly destroyest thou
Thine own sanctuary,
Sowing thistles there?


WOMAN.


How the infant sleeps!
Wilt thou rest thee in the cottage,
Stranger? Wouldst thou rather
In the open air still linger?
Now 'tis cool! take thou the child
While I go and draw some water.
Sleep on, darling! sleep!


WANDERER.


Sweet is thy repose!
How, with heaven-born health imbued,
Peacefully he slumbers!
Oh thou, born among the ruins
Spread by great antiquity,



On thee rest her spirit!
He whom it encircles
Will, in godlike consciousness,
Ev'ry day enjoy.
Full, of germ, unfold,
As the smiling springtime's
Fairest charm,
Outshining all thy fellows!
And when the blossom's husk is faded,
May the full fruit shoot forth
From out thy breast,
And ripen in the sunshine!


WOMAN.


God bless him!--Is he sleeping still?
To the fresh draught I nought can add,
Saving a crust of bread for thee to eat.


WANDERER.


I thank thee well.
How fair the verdure all around!
How green!


WOMAN.


My husband soon
Will home return
From labour. Tarry, tarry, man,
And with us eat our evening meal.


WANDERER.


Is't here ye dwell?


WOMAN.


Yonder, within those walls we live.
My father 'twas who built the cottage
Of tiles and stones from out the ruins.
'Tis here we dwell.
He gave me to a husbandman,
And in our arms expired.--
Hast thou been sleeping, dearest heart
How lively, and how full of play!
Sweet rogue!


WANDERER.


Nature, thou ever budding one,
Thou formest each for life's enjoyments,



And, like a mother, all thy children dear,
Blessest with that sweet heritage,--a home
The swallow builds the cornice round,
Unconscious of the beauties
She plasters up.
The caterpillar spins around the bough,
To make her brood a winter house;
And thou dost patch, between antiquity's
Most glorious relics,
For thy mean use,
Oh man, a humble cot,--
Enjoyest e'en mid tombs!--
Farewell, thou happy woman!


WOMAN.


Thou wilt not stay, then?


WANDERER.


May God preserve thee,
And bless thy boy!


WOMAN.


A happy journey!


WANDERER.


Whither conducts the path
Across yon hill?


WOMAN.


To Cuma.


WANDERER.


How far from hence?


WOMAN.


'Tis full three miles.


WANDERER.


Farewell!
Oh Nature, guide me on my way!
The wandering stranger guide,
Who o'er the tombs
Of holy bygone times
Is passing,



To a kind sheltering place,
From North winds safe,
And where a poplar grove
Shuts out the noontide ray!
And when I come
Home to my cot
At evening,
Illumined by the setting sun,
Let me embrace a wife like this,
Her infant in her arms!

The Wanderer

WANDERER.

YOUNG woman, may God bless thee,
Thee, and the sucking infant
Upon thy breast!
Let me, 'gainst this rocky wall,
Neath the elm-tree's shadow,
Lay aside my burden,
Near thee take my rest.


WOMAN.


What vocation leads thee,
While the day is burning,
Up this dusty path?
Bring'st thou goods from out the town
Round the country?
Smil'st thou, stranger,
At my question?


WANDERER.


From the town no goods I bring.
Cool is now the evening;
Show to me the fountain
'Whence thou drinkest,
Woman young and kind!


WOMAN.


Up the rocky pathway mount;
Go thou first! Across the thicket
Leads the pathway tow'rd the cottage
That I live in,
To the fountain
Whence I drink.


WANDERER.


Signs of man's arranging hand
See I 'mid the trees!
Not by thee these stones were join'd,
Nature, who so freely scatterest!


WOMAN.


Up, still up!


WANDERER.


Lo, a mossy architrave is here!
I discern thee, fashioning spirit!



On the stone thou hast impress'd thy seal.
WOMAN.
Onward, stranger!
WANDERER.
Over an inscription am I treading!


'Tis effaced!
Ye are seen no longer,
Words so deeply graven,
Who your master's true devotion
Should have shown to thousand grandsons!


WOMAN.
At these stones, why
Start'st thou, stranger?


Many stones are lying yonder
Round my cottage.
WANDERER.
Yonder?
WOMAN.
Through the thicket,


Turning to the left,
Here!
WANDERER.
Ye Muses and ye Graces!
WOMAN.
This, then, is my cottage.
WANDERER.
'Tis a ruin'd temple!


WOMAN.
Just below it, see,
Springs the fountain
Whence I drink.


WANDERER.



Thou dost hover
O'er thy grave, all glowing,
Genius! while upon thee
Hath thy master-piece
Fallen crumbling,
Thou Immortal One!


WOMAN.


Stay, a cup I'll fetch thee
Whence to drink.


WANDERER.


Ivy circles thy slender
Form so graceful and godlike.
How ye rise on high
From the ruins,
Column-pair
And thou, their lonely sister yonder,--
How thou,
Dusky moss upon thy sacred head,--
Lookest down in mournful majesty
On thy brethren's figures
Lying scatter'd
At thy feet!
In the shadow of the bramble
Earth and rubbish veil them,
Lofty grass is waving o'er them
Is it thus thou, Nature, prizest
Thy great masterpiece's masterpiece?
Carelessly destroyest thou
Thine own sanctuary,
Sowing thistles there?


WOMAN.


How the infant sleeps!
Wilt thou rest thee in the cottage,
Stranger? Wouldst thou rather
In the open air still linger?
Now 'tis cool! take thou the child
While I go and draw some water.
Sleep on, darling! sleep!


WANDERER.


Sweet is thy repose!
How, with heaven-born health imbued,
Peacefully he slumbers!
Oh thou, born among the ruins
Spread by great antiquity,



On thee rest her spirit!
He whom it encircles
Will, in godlike consciousness,
Ev'ry day enjoy.
Full, of germ, unfold,
As the smiling springtime's
Fairest charm,
Outshining all thy fellows!
And when the blossom's husk is faded,
May the full fruit shoot forth
From out thy breast,
And ripen in the sunshine!


WOMAN.


God bless him!--Is he sleeping still?
To the fresh draught I nought can add,
Saving a crust of bread for thee to eat.


WANDERER.


I thank thee well.
How fair the verdure all around!
How green!


WOMAN.


My husband soon
Will home return
From labour. Tarry, tarry, man,
And with us eat our evening meal.


WANDERER.


Is't here ye dwell?


WOMAN.


Yonder, within those walls we live.
My father 'twas who built the cottage
Of tiles and stones from out the ruins.
'Tis here we dwell.
He gave me to a husbandman,
And in our arms expired.--
Hast thou been sleeping, dearest heart
How lively, and how full of play!
Sweet rogue!


WANDERER.


Nature, thou ever budding one,
Thou formest each for life's enjoyments,



And, like a mother, all thy children dear,
Blessest with that sweet heritage,--a home
The swallow builds the cornice round,
Unconscious of the beauties
She plasters up.
The caterpillar spins around the bough,
To make her brood a winter house;
And thou dost patch, between antiquity's
Most glorious relics,
For thy mean use,
Oh man, a humble cot,--
Enjoyest e'en mid tombs!--
Farewell, thou happy woman!


WOMAN.


Thou wilt not stay, then?


WANDERER.


May God preserve thee,
And bless thy boy!


WOMAN.


A happy journey!


WANDERER.


Whither conducts the path
Across yon hill?


WOMAN.


To Cuma.


WANDERER.


How far from hence?


WOMAN.


'Tis full three miles.


WANDERER.


Farewell!
Oh Nature, guide me on my way!
The wandering stranger guide,
Who o'er the tombs
Of holy bygone times
Is passing,



To a kind sheltering place,
From North winds safe,
And where a poplar grove
Shuts out the noontide ray!
And when I come
Home to my cot
At evening,
Illumined by the setting sun,
Let me embrace a wife like this,
Her infant in her arms!

The Unequal Marriage

EVEN this heavenly pair were unequally match'd when united:
Psyche grew older and wise, Amor remain'd still a child,

The Unequal Marriage

EVEN this heavenly pair were unequally match'd when united:
Psyche grew older and wise, Amor remain'd still a child,

The Spring Oracle

OH prophetic bird so bright,
Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight!
In the fairest time of year,
Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear
What a youthful pair would pray,
Do thou call, if hope they may:
Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo.
Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!


Hearest thou? A loving pair
Fain would to the altar fare;
Yes! a pair in happy youth,
Full of virtue, full of truth.
Is the hour not fix'd by fate?
Say, how long must they still wait?
Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo!
Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!


'Tis not our fault, certainly!
Only two years patient be!
But if we ourselves please here,
Will pa-pa-papas appear?
Know that thou'lt more kindness do us,
More thou'lt prophesy unto us.
One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo!
Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!


If we've calculated clearly,
We have half a dozen nearly.
If good promises we'll give,
Wilt thou say how long we'II live?
Truly, we'll confess to thee,
We'd prolong it willingly.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!


Life is one continued feast-(
If we keep no score, at least).
If now we together dwell,
Will true love remain as well?
For if that should e'er decay,
Happiness would pass away.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

The Rule Of Life

IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
Let not the past torment thee e'er;
As little as possible be thou annoy'd,
And let the present be ever enjoy'd;
Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied,
And to God the future confide.

The Rule Of Life

IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
Let not the past torment thee e'er;
As little as possible be thou annoy'd,
And let the present be ever enjoy'd;
Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied,
And to God the future confide.

The Pariah - The Pariah's Thanks

MIGHTY Brama, now I'll bless thee!

'Tis from thee that worlds proceed!
As my ruler I confess thee,
For of all thou takest heed.
All thy thousand ears thou keepest
Open to each child of earth;


We, 'mongst mortals sunk the deepest,
Have from thee received new birth.
Bear in mind the woman's story,
Who, through grief, divine became;


Now I'll wait to view His glory,
Who omnipotence can claim.

The New Amadis

IN my boyhood's days so drear

I was kept confined;
There I sat for many a year,
All alone I pined,


As within the womb.
Yet thou drov'st away my gloom,
Golden phantasy!


I became a hero true,


Like the Prince Pipi,
And the world roam'd through,
Many a crystal palace built,
Crush'd them with like art,


And the Dragon's life-blood spilt


With my glitt'ring dart.
Yes! I was a man!
Next I formed the knightly plan
Princess Fish to free;


She was much too complaisant,


Kindly welcomed me,--
And I was gallant.
Heav'nly bread her kisses proved,
Glowing as the wine;


Almost unto death I loved.


Sun-s appeared to shine
In her dazzling charms.
Who hath torn her from mine arms?
Could no magic band


Make her in her flight delay?


Say, where now her land?
Where, alas, the way?

The Muse's Mirror

EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment,
Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking.
Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted
Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger.
Yet the stream call'd mockingly after her, saying: "What, truly!
Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted?"
But she already was far away, on the brink of the ocean,
In her figure rejoicing, and duly arranging her garland.

The Mountain Village

"THE mountain village was destroy'd;
But see how soon is fill'd the void!
Shingles and boards, as by magic arise,
The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies;
How blest to trust to God's protection!"


Behold a wooden new erection,
So that, if sparks and wind but choose,
God's self at such a game must lose!

The King Of Thule

IN Thule lived a monarch,

Still faithful to the grave,
To whom his dying mistress
A golden goblet gave.
Beyond all price he deem'd it,
He quaff'd it at each feast;


And, when he drain'd that goblet,
His tears to flow ne'er ceas'd.
And when he felt death near him,
His cities o'er he told,


And to his heir left all things,
But not that cup of gold.
A regal banquet held he
In his ancestral ball,


In yonder sea-wash'd castle,
'Mongst his great nobles all.
There stood the aged reveller,
And drank his last life's-glow,--


Then hurl'd the holy goblet
Into the flood below.
He saw it falling, filling,
And sinking 'neath the main,


His eyes then closed for ever,
He never drank again.

The Happy Couple

AFTER these vernal rains

That we so warmly sought,
Dear wife, see how our plains
With blessings sweet are fraught!


We cast our distant gaze


Far in the misty blue;
Here gentle love still strays,
Here dwells still rapture true.
Thou seest whither go
Yon pair of pigeons white,


Where swelling violets blow


Round sunny foliage bright.
'Twas there we gather'd first
A nosegay as we roved;


There into flame first burst
The passion that we proved.
Yet when, with plighted troth,
The priest beheld us fare

Home from the altar both,

With many a youthful pair,--
Then other moons had birth,
And many a beauteous sun,

Then we had gain'd the earth
Whereon life's race to run.
A hundred thousand fold
The mighty bond was seal'd;


In woods, on mountains cold,


In bushes, in the field,
Within the wall, in caves,
And on the craggy height,

And love, e'en o'er the waves,
Bore in his tube the light.


Contented we remain'd,


We deem'd ourselves a pair;
'Twas otherwise ordain'd,
For, lo! a third was there;


A fourth, fifth, sixth appear'd,


And sat around our board;
And now the plants we've rear'd
High o'er our heads have soar'd!
How fair and pleasant looks,
On yonder beauteous spot,


Embraced by poplar-brooks,


The newly-finish'd cot!
Who is it there that sits
In that glad home above?


Is't not our darling Fritz
With his own darling love?
Beside yon precipice,
Whence pent-up waters steal,


And leaving the abyss,


Fall foaming through the wheel,
Though people often tell
Of millers' wives so fair,


Yet none can e'er excel
Our dearest daughter there!
Yet where the thick-set green
Stands round yon church and sad,


Where the old fir-tree's seen


Alone tow'rd heaven to nod,-'
Tis there the ashes lie
Of our untimely dead;


From earth our gaze on high
By their blest memory's led.



See how yon hill is bright


With billowy-waving arms!
The force returns, whose might
Has vanquished war's alarms.


Who proudly hastens here


With wreath-encircled brow?
'Tis like our child so dear
Thus Charles comes homeward now.
That dearest honour'd guest
Is welcom'd by the bride;


She makes the true one blest,


At the glad festal tide.
And ev'ry one makes haste
To join the dance with glee;


While thou with wreaths hast graced
The youngest children three.
To sound of flute and horn
The time appears renew'd,


When we, in love's young morn,


In the glad dance upstood;
And perfect bliss I know
Ere the year's course is run,

For to the font we go
With grandson and with son!

The Godlike

NOBLE be man,
Helpful and good!
For that alone
Distinguisheth him
From all the beings
Unto us known.


Hail to the beings,
Unknown and glorious,
Whom we forebode!
From his example
Learn we to know them!


For unfeeling
Nature is ever:
On bad and on good
The sun alike shineth;
And on the wicked,
As on the best,
The moon and stars gleam.


Tempest and torrent,
Thunder and hail,
Roar on their path,
Seizing the while,
As they haste onward,
One after another.


Even so, fortune
Gropes 'mid the throng--
Innocent boyhood's
Curly head seizing,--
Seizing the hoary
Head of the sinner.


After laws mighty,
Brazen, eternal,
Must all we mortals
Finish the circuit
Of our existence.


Man, and man only
Can do the impossible;
He 'tis distinguisheth,
Chooseth and judgeth;
He to the moment
Endurance can lend.


He and he only
The good can reward,
The bad can he punish,
Can heal and can save;



All that wanders and strays
Can usefully blend.
And we pay homage
To the immortals
As though they were men,
And did in the great,
What the best, in the small,
Does or might do.


Be the man that is noble,
Both helpful and good.
Unweariedly forming
The right and the useful,
A type of those beings
Our mind hath foreshadow'd!