The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - LightNovelsOnl.com
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The sun comes out; he glows, And straight my dreams depart, While from the cliffs he throws A chill across my heart.
THE FORSAKEN MAIDEN[25] (1829)
Early when c.o.c.ks do crow Ere the stars dwindle, Down to the hearth I go, Fire must I kindle.
Fair leap the flames on high, Sparks they whirl drunken; I watch them listlessly In sorrow sunken.
Sudden it comes to me, Youth so fair seeming, That all the night of thee I have been dreaming.
Tears then on tears do run For my false lover; Thus has the day begun-- Would it were over!
WEYLA'S SONG[26] (1831)
Thou art Orplede, my land Remotely gleaming; The mist arises from thy sun-bright strand To where the faces of the G.o.ds are beaming.
Primeval rivers spring renewed Thy silver girdle weaving, child!
Before the G.o.dhead bow subdued Kings, thy wors.h.i.+pers and watchers mild.
SECLUSION[27] (1832)
Let, oh world, ah let me be!
Tempt me not with gifts of pleasure.
Leave alone this heart to treasure All its joy, its misery.
What my grief I can not say, 'Tis a strange, a wistful sorrow; Yet through tears at every morrow I behold the light of day.
When my weary soul finds rest Oft a beam of rapture brightens All the gloom of cloud, and lightens This oppression in my breast.
Let, oh world, all, let me be!
Tempt me not with gifts of pleasure.
Leave alone this heart to treasure All its joy, its misery.
THE SOLDIER'S BETROTHED[28] (1837)
Oh dear, if the king only knew How brave is my sweetheart, how true!
He would give his heart's blood for the king, But for me he would do the same thing.
My love has no ribbon or star, No cross such as gentlemen wear, A gen'ral he'll never become; If only they'd leave him at home!
For stars there are three s.h.i.+ning bright O'er the Church of St. Mary each night; We are bound by a rose-woven band, And a house-cross is always at hand.
THE OLD WEATHERc.o.c.k: AN IDYLL[29] (1840, 1852)
At Cleversulzbach in the Underland A hundred and thirteen years did I stand Up on the tower in wind and rain, An ornament and a weathervane.
Through night and tempest gazing down, Like a good old c.o.c.k I watched the town.
The lightning oft my form has grazed, The frost my scarlet comb o'erglazed, And many a warm long summer's day, In times when all seek shade who may, The scorching sun with rage unslaked My golden body well has baked.
So in my age all black I'd grown, My beauteous glint and gleam was gone, Till I at length, despised by all, Was lifted from my pedestal.
Ah well! 'tis thus we run our race, Another now must have my place.
Go strut, and preen, but don't forget What court the wind will pay you yet!
Farewell, sweet landscape, mount and dell!
Vineyard and forest, fare ye well!
Beloved tower, the roof's high ridge, Churchyard and streamlet with its bridge; Oh fountain, where the cattle throng And sheep come trooping all day long, With Hans to urge them on their way.
And Eva on the piebald gray!
Ye storks and swallows with your clatter, And sparrows, how I'll miss your chatter!
For every bit of dirt seems dear Which o'er my form you used to smear.
Goodby, my worthy friend the pastor, And you, poor driveling old schoolmaster.
'Tis o'er, what cheered my heart so long.
The sound of organ, bells and song.
So from my, lofty perch I crew, And would have sung much longer too, When came a crooked devil's minion, The slater 'twas in my opinion.
Who after many a knock and shake Detached me wholly from my stake.
My poor old heart was broke at last When from the roof he pulled me past The bells which from their station glared And on my fate in wonder stared, But vexed themselves no more about me, Thinking they'd hang as well without me.
Then to the sc.r.a.p-heap I was brought, For twopence by the blacksmith bought, Which as he paid he said 'twas wonder How much folk wanted for such plunder.
And there at noon of that same day In grief before his hut I lay.
The time being May, a little tree Shed snow-white blossoms over me, While other chickens by the dozen Unheeding cackled round their cousin.
'Twas then the pastor happened by, Spoke to the smith, then smiling, "Hi!
And have you come to this, poor c.o.c.k A strange bird, Andrew, for your flock!
He'll hardly do to broil or roast; For me though, I may fairly boast Things must go hard if I've no place For old church servants in hard case.
Bring him along then speedily And drink a gla.s.s of wine with me."
The sooty lout with quick a.s.sent Laughed, picked me up, and off we went.
A little more, and from my throat Toward heaven I'd sent a joyous note.
Within the manse the strange new guest Astounded all from most to least; But soon each face, before afraid, The glowing light of joy displayed.
Wife, maids and menfolks, girls and boys Surrounded with a seven-fold noise The giant rooster in the hall, Welcoming, looking, handling all.
The man of G.o.d with jealous care Took me himself and climbed the stair To his own study, while the pack Came stumbling after at his back.
Within these walls is peace enshrined!
Entering, we left the world behind.
I seemed to breathe a magic air, Essence of books and learning rare, Geranium scent and mignonette, And faint tobacco lingering yet.
(To me of course all this was new.) An ancient stove I noticed, too, In the left corner in full view.
Quite like a tower its bulk was raised Until its peak the ceiling grazed, With pillared strength and flowery grace, O most delightful resting-place!
On the top wreath as on a mast The blacksmith set me firm and fast.
Behold my stove with reverent eyes!
Cathedral-like its n.o.ble size; With store of pictures overwrought, And rhymes that tell of pious thought.
Of such I learned full many a word, While the old stove from out its h.o.a.rd Would draw them forth for young and old, When the snow fell and winds blew cold.
