She gives a side-glance and looks down,
Beware! Beware! 10
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!
And she has hair of a golden hue,
Take care!
And what she says, it is not true, 15
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!
She has a bosom as white as snow,
Take care! 20
She knows how much it is best to show,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!
She gives thee a garland woven fair, 25
Take care!
It is a fool’s-cap for thee to wear,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! 30
Song of the Bell
First published in Hyperion, Book III. chapter iii. The scene of the chapter is laid at Interlachen. “The evening sun was setting,” writes the author, “when I first beheld thee. The sun of life will set ere I forget thee! Surely it was a scene like this that inspired the soul of the Swiss poet, in his Song of the Bell.”
BELL! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party
To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly,
When, on Sabbath morning, 5
Fields deserted lie!
Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,
Bed-time draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully, 10
Tellest thou the bitter
Parting hath gone by!
Say! how canst thou mourn?
How canst thou rejoice?
Thou art but metal dull! 15
And yet all our sorrowings,
And all our rejoicings,
Thou dost feel them all!
God hath wonders many,
Which we cannot fathom, 20
Placed within thy form!
When the heart is sinking,
Thou alone canst raise it,
Trembling in the storm!
The Castle by the Sea
(Das Schloss am Meere)
By Johann Ludwig Uhland
“HAST thou seen that lordly castle,
That Castle by the Sea?
Golden and red above it
The clouds float gorgeously.
“And fain it would stoop downward 5
To the mirrored wave below;
And fain it would soar upward
In the evening’s crimson glow.”
“Well have I seen that castle,
That Castle by the Sea, 10
And the moon above it standing,
And the mist rise solemnly.”
“The winds and the waves of ocean,
Had they a merry chime?
Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers 15
The harp and the minstrel’s rhyme?”
“The winds and the waves of ocean,
They rested quietly,
But I heard on the gale a sound of wail,
And tears came to mine eye.” 20
“And sawest thou on the turrets
The King and his royal bride?
And the wave of their crimson mantles?
And the golden crown of pride?
“Led they not forth, in rapture, 25
A beauteous maiden there?
Resplendent as the morning sun,
Beaming with golden hair?”
“Well saw I the ancient parents,
Without the crown of pride; 30
They were moving slow, in weeds of woe,
No maiden was by their side!”
The Black Knight
(Der Schwarze Ritter)
By Johann Ludwig Uhland
‘T WAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
“So from the halls
Of ancient Hofburg’s walls, 5
A luxuriant Spring shall break.”
Drums and trumpets echo loudly,
Wave the crimson banners proudly,
From balcony the King looked on;
In the play of spears, 10
Fell all the cavaliers,
Before the monarch’s stalwart son.
To the barrier of the fight
Rode at last a sable Knight.
“Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!” 15
“Should I speak it here,
Ye would stand aghast with fear;
I am a Prince of mighty sway!”
When he rode into the lists,
The arch of heaven grew black with mists, 20
And the castle’ gan to rock;
At the first blow,
Fell the youth from saddle-bow,
Hardly rises from the shock.
Pipe and viol call the dances, 25
Torch-light through the high halls glances;
Waves a mighty shadow in;
With manner bland
Doth ask the maiden’s hand,
Doth with her the dance begin. 30
Danced in sable iron sark,
Danced a measure weird and dark,
Coldly clasped her limbs around;
From breast and hair
Down fall from her the fair 35
Flowerets, faded, to the ground.
To the sumptuous banquet came
Every Knight and every Dame;
‘Twixt son and daughter all distraught,
With mournful mind 40
The ancient King reclined,
Gazed at them in silent thought.
Pale the children both did look,
But the guest a beaker took:
“Golden wine will make you whole!” 45
The children drank,
Gave many a courteous thank:
“Oh, that draught was very cool!”
Each the father’s breast embraces,
Son and daughter; and their faces 50
Colorless grow utterly;
Whichever way
Looks the fear-struck father gray,
He beholds his children die.
“Woe! the blessed children both 55
Takest thou in the joy of youth;
Take me, too, the joyless father!”
Spake the grim Guest,
From his hollow, cavernous breast:
“Roses in the spring I gather!” 60
Song of the Silent Land
(Lied: Ins stille Land)
By Johann Gaudenz von Salis-Seewis
INTO the Silent Land!
Ah! who shall lead us thither?
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.
Who leads us with a gentle hand 5
Thither, oh, thither,
Into the Silent Land?
Into the Silent Land!
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions 10
Of beauteous souls! The Future’s pledge and band!
Who in Life’s battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear Hope’s tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land!
O Land! O Land! 15
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our fate allotted,
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
To the land of the great Departed, 20
Into the Silent Land!
The Luck of Edenhall
(Das Glück von Edenhall)
By Johann Ludwig Uhland
OF Edenhall, the youthful Lord
Bids sound the festal trumpet’s call;
He rises at the banquet board,
And cries, ‘mid the drunken revellers all,
“Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!” 5
The butl
er hears the words with pain,
The house’s oldest seneschal,
Takes slow from its silken cloth again
The drinking-glass of crystal tall;
They call it the Luck of Edenhall. 10
Then said the Lord: “This glass to praise,
Fill with red wine from Portugal!”
The graybeard with trembling hand obeys;
A purple light shines over all,
It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. 15
Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light:
“This glass of flashing crystal tall
Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite;
She wrote in it, If this glass doth fall,
Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall! 20
“‘T was right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall!
Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!” 25
First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the song of a nightingale;
Then like the roar of a torrent wild;
Then mutters at last like the thunder’s fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall. 30
“For its keeper takes a race of might,
The fragile goblet of crystal tall;
It has lasted longer than is right;
Kling! klang! — with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall!” 35
As the goblet ringing flies apart
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall;
And through the rift, the wild flames start;
The guests in dust are scattered all,
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall! 40
In storms the foe, with fire and sword;
He in the night had scaled the wall,
Slain by the sword lies the youthful Lord,
But holds in his hand the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall. 45
On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
The graybeard in the desert hall,
He seeks his Lord’s burnt skeleton,
He seeks in the dismal ruin’s fall
The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. 50
“The stone wall,” saith he, “doth fall aside,
Down must the stately columns fall;
Glass is this earth’s Luck and Pride;
In atoms shall fall this earthly ball
One day like the Luck of Edenhall!” 55
The Two Locks of Hair
(Der Junggesell)
By Gustav Pfizer
A YOUTH, light-hearted and content,
I wander through the world;
Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent
And straight again is furled.
Yet oft I dream, that once a wife 5
Close in my heart was locked,
And in the sweet repose of life
A blessed child I rocked.
I wake! Away that dream, — away!
Too long did it remain! 10
So long, that both by night and day
It ever comes again.
The end lies ever in my thought;
To a grave so cold and deep
The mother beautiful was brought; 15
Then dropt the child asleep.
But now the dream is wholly o’er,
I bathe mine eyes and see;
And wander through the world once more,
A youth so light and free. 20
Two locks — and they are wondrous fair —
Left me that vision mild;
The brown is from the mother’s hair,
The blond is from the child.
And when I see that lock of gold, 25
Pale grows the evening-red;
And when the dark lock I behold,
I wish that I were dead.
The Hemlock Tree
O HEMLOCK tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
Green not alone in summer time,
But in the winter’s frost and rime!
O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom! 5
To love me in prosperity,
And leave me in adversity!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom!
The nightingale the nightingale, thou tak’st for thine example!
So long as summer laughs she sings, 10
But in the autumn spreads her wings.
The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak’st for thine example!
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirror of thy falsehood!
It flows so long as falls the rain,
In drought its springs soon dry again. 15
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirror of thy falsehood!
Annie of Tharaw
(Anke von Tharau)
By Simon Dach
ANNIE of Tharaw, my true love of old,
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold.
Annie of Tharaw her heart once again
To me has surrendered in joy and in pain.
Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my good, 5
Thou, O my soul, my flesh, and my blood!
Then come the wild weather, come sleet or come snow,
We will stand by each other, however it blow.
Oppression, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain
Shall be to our true love as links to the chain. 10
As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall,
The more the hail beats, and the more the rains fall, —
So love in our hearts shall grow mighty and strong,
Through crosses, through sorrows, through manifold wrong.
Shouldst thou be torn from me to wander alone 15
In a desolate land where the sun is scarce known, —
Through forests I’ll follow, and where the sea flows,
Through ice, and through iron, through armies of foes.
Annie of Tharaw, my light and my sun,
The threads of our two lives are woven in one. 20
Whate’er I have bidden thee thou hast obeyed,
Whatever forbidden thou hast not gainsaid.
How in the turmoil of life can love stand,
Where there is not one heart, and one mouth, and one hand?
Some seek for dissension, and trouble, and strife; 25
Like a dog and a cat live such man and wife.
Annie of Tharaw, such is not our love;
Thou art my lambkin, my chick, and my dove.
Whate’er my desire is, in thine may be seen;
I am king of the household, and thou art its queen. 30
It is this, O my Annie, my heart’s sweetest rest,
That makes of us twain but one soul in one breast.
This turns to a heaven the hut where we dwell;
While wrangling soon changes a home to a hell.
The Statue over the Cathedral Door
(Das Steinbild am Dome)
By Julius Mosen
FORMS of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above;
Yet I saw but one among them
Who hath soothed my soul with love.
In his mantle, — wound about him, 5
As their robes the sowers wind, —
Bore he swallows and their fledglings,
Flowers and weeds of every kind.
And so stands he calm and childlike,
High in wind and tempest wild; 10
Oh, were I like him exalted,
I would be like him a child!
And my songs, — green leaves and blossoms, —
To the doors of heaven would bear,
Calling even in storm and tempest, 15
Round me still these birds of air.
The Legend of the Crossbill
(Der Kreuzschnabel
, No. 3)
By Julius Mosen
ON the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.
And by all the world forsaken, 5
Sees He how with zealous care
At the ruthless nail of iron
A little bird is striving there.
Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease, 10
From the cross ‘t would free the Saviour,
Its Creator’s Son release.
And the Saviour speaks in mildness:
“Blest be thou of all the good!
Bear, as token of this moment, 15
Marks of blood and holy rood!”
And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear,
In the groves of pine it singeth
Songs, like legends, strange to hear. 20
The Sea hath its Pearls
By Heinrich Heine
THE SEA hath its pearls,
The heaven hath its stars;
But my heart, my heart,
My heart hath its love.
Great are the sea and the heaven, 5
Yet greater is my heart;
And fairer than pearls and stars
Flashes and beams my love.
Thou little, youthful maiden,
Come unto my great heart; 10
My heart, and the sea, and the heaven
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 140
