At
midnight hour.
Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught,
Burst thro' the gloom
wherein she was enshrined;
And then the
willing, active, rapid thought
Around the past, as round the future twined,
At
midnight hour.
1818.
-----
TO THE RISING FULL MOON.
Dornburg, 25th August, 1828.
WILT thou suddenly enshroud thee,
Who this moment wert so nigh?
Heavy rising masses cloud thee,
Thou art
hidden from mine eye.
Yet my
sadness thou well knowest,
Gleaming
sweetly as a star!
That I'm loved, 'tis thou that showest,
Though my loved one may be far.
Upward mount then! clearer, milder,
Robed in splendour far more bright!
Though my heart with grief throbs wilder,
Fraught with
rapture is the night!
1828.
-----
THE BRIDEGROOM.*
(Not in the English sense of the word, but the German, where it
has the meaning of betrothed.)
I SLEPT,--'twas
midnight,--in my bosom woke,
As though 'twere day, my love-o'erflowing heart;
To me it seemed like night, when day first broke;
What is't to me, whate'er it may impart?
She was away; the world's unceasing strife
For her alone I suffer'd through the heat
Of
sultry day; oh, what
refreshing life
At cooling eve!--my guerdon was complete.
The sun now set, and wand'ring hand in hand,
His last and blissful look we greeted then;
While spake our eyes, as they each other scann'd:
"From the far east, let's trust, he'll come again!"
At
midnight!--the bright stars, in
vision blest,
Guide to the
threshold where she slumbers calm:
Oh be it mine, there too at length to rest,--
Yet howsoe'er this prove, life's full of charm!
1828.
-----
SUCH, SUCH IS HE WHO PLEASETH ME.
FLY, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!
He who found thee one fair morn in Spring
In the wood where thou thy
flight didst wing.
Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!
Never rests the foot of evil spy.
Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains
Reach the loved one, borne there by the wind,
In the soft heart open doors they find.
Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains,
Hark!--yet blissful love their echo pains.
Erect his head, and firm his tread,
Raven hair around his smooth brow strays,
On his cheeks a Spring
eternal plays.
Erect his head, and firm his tread,
And by grace his ev'ry step is led.
Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd,
And the dark eyes 'neath his eyebrows placed,
With full many a
beauteous line are graced.
Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd,
Soon as seen, thy love must be confess'd.
His mouth is red--its power I dread,
On his lips morn's
fragrantincense lies,
Round his lips the cooling Zephyr sighs.
His mouth is red--its power I dread,
With one glance from him, all sorrow's fled.
His blood is true, his heart bold too,
In his soft arms, strength,
protection, dwells
And his face with noble pity swells.
His blood is true, his heart bold too,
Blest the one whom those dear arms may woo!
1816..
-----
SICILIAN SONG.
YE black and roguish eyes,
If ye command.
Each house in ruins lies,
No town can stand.
And shall my bosom's chain,--
This
plaster wall,?
To think one moment, deign,--
Shall ii not fall?
1811.
-----
SWISS SONG,
Up in th' mountain
I was a-sitting,
With the bird there
As my guest,
Blithely singing,
Blithely springing,
And building
His nest.
In the garden
I was a-standing,
And the bee there
Saw as well,
Buzzing, humming,
Going, coming,
And building
His cell.
O'er the meadow
I was a-going,
And there saw the
Butterflies,
Sipping, dancing,
Flying, glancing,
And charming
The eyes.
And then came my
Dear Hansel,
And I show'd them
With glee,
Sipping, quaffing,
And he, laughing,
Sweet kisses
Gave me.
1811.
-----
FINNISH SONG.
IF the loved one, the
well-known one,
Should return as he departed,
On his lips would ring my kisses,
Though the wolf's blood might have dyed them;
And a
hearty grasp I'd give him,
Though his finger-ends were serpents.
Wind! Oh, if thou hadst but reason,
Word for word in turns thou'dst carry,
E'en though some
perchance might perish
'Tween two lovers so far distant.
All choice morsels I'd
dispense with,
Table-flesh of priests
neglect too,
Sooner than
renounce my lover,
Whom, in Summer having vanquish'd,
I in Winter tamed still longer.
1810.
-----
GIPSY SONG.
IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd,
In the Winter night, in the forest wild,
I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl,
I heard the screaming note of the owl:
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch--
The dear black cat of Anna the witch;
Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down,
Seven women they were, from out of the town.
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight;
First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate,
And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well;
And forming a ring, they began to yell:
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
Then call'd I their names with angry threat:
"What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?"
At
hearing my voice, themselves they shook,
And howling and yelling, to
flight they took.
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
1772.
-----
THE DESTRUCTION OF MAGDEBURG.
[For a fine
account of the
fearful sack of Magdeburg, by Tilly,
in the year 1613, see SCHILLER's History of the Thirty Years'
War.]
OH, Magdeberg the town!
Fair maids thy beauty crown,
Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown;
Oh, Magdeburg the town!
Where all so
blooming stands,
Advance
fierce Tilly's bands;
O'er gardens and o'er well--till'd lands
Advance
fierce Tilly's bands.
Now Tilly's at the gate.
Our homes who'll liberate?
Go, loved one,
hasten to the gate,
And dare the
combat straight!
There is no need as yet,
However
fierce his threat;
Thy rosy cheeks I'll kiss, sweet pet!
There is no need as yet.
My
longing makes me pale.
Oh, what can
wealth avail?
E'en now thy father may be pale.
Thou mak'st my courage fail.
Oh, mother, give me bread!
Is then my father dead?
Oh, mother, one small crust of bread!
Oh, what
misfortune dread!