My heart, my heart is mournful,Yet May is gleaming like gold;I stand, ’gainst the linden reclining,High over the bastion old.Beneath, the moat’s blue waterFlows peacefully along;A boy his bark is steering,And fishes, and pipes his song.Beyond, in pleasing confusion,In distant and chequer’d array,Are men, and villas, and gardens,And cattle, woods, meadows so gay.The maidens are bleaching the linen,And spring on the grass, like deerThe mill-wheel’s powd’ring diamonds,Its distant murmur I hear.Beside the old grey towerA sentry-box is set;A red-accoutred fellowWalks up and down there yet.He’s playing with his musket,While gleameth the sun o’erhead;He first presents and shoulders—I would that he’d shoot me dead!
My heart, my heart is mournful,Yet May is gleaming like gold;I stand, ’gainst the linden reclining,High over the bastion old.Beneath, the moat’s blue waterFlows peacefully along;A boy his bark is steering,And fishes, and pipes his song.Beyond, in pleasing confusion,In distant and chequer’d array,Are men, and villas, and gardens,And cattle, woods, meadows so gay.The maidens are bleaching the linen,And spring on the grass, like deerThe mill-wheel’s powd’ring diamonds,Its distant murmur I hear.Beside the old grey towerA sentry-box is set;A red-accoutred fellowWalks up and down there yet.He’s playing with his musket,While gleameth the sun o’erhead;He first presents and shoulders—I would that he’d shoot me dead!
My heart, my heart is mournful,Yet May is gleaming like gold;I stand, ’gainst the linden reclining,High over the bastion old.
Beneath, the moat’s blue waterFlows peacefully along;A boy his bark is steering,And fishes, and pipes his song.
Beyond, in pleasing confusion,In distant and chequer’d array,Are men, and villas, and gardens,And cattle, woods, meadows so gay.
The maidens are bleaching the linen,And spring on the grass, like deerThe mill-wheel’s powd’ring diamonds,Its distant murmur I hear.
Beside the old grey towerA sentry-box is set;A red-accoutred fellowWalks up and down there yet.
He’s playing with his musket,While gleameth the sun o’erhead;He first presents and shoulders—I would that he’d shoot me dead!
With tears through the forest I wander,The throstle’s sitting on high;She, springing, sings softly yonder:O wherefore dost thou sigh?“Sweet bird, thy sister the swallow“Can tell thee the cause of my gloom;“She dwells in a nest all hollow,“Beside my sweetheart’s room.”
With tears through the forest I wander,The throstle’s sitting on high;She, springing, sings softly yonder:O wherefore dost thou sigh?“Sweet bird, thy sister the swallow“Can tell thee the cause of my gloom;“She dwells in a nest all hollow,“Beside my sweetheart’s room.”
With tears through the forest I wander,The throstle’s sitting on high;She, springing, sings softly yonder:O wherefore dost thou sigh?
“Sweet bird, thy sister the swallow“Can tell thee the cause of my gloom;“She dwells in a nest all hollow,“Beside my sweetheart’s room.”
The night is damp and stormy,No star is in the sky;In the wood, ’neath the rustling branchesIn silence wander I.A distant light is twinklingFrom the hunter’s lonely cot;But within, the scene is but saddening,And the light can allure me not.The blind old grandmother’s sittingIn her leather elbow-chair,All-gloomily fix’d like a statue,Not a word escapeth her there.With curses to and fro pacesThe forester’s red-headed son;With fury and scorn he’s laughing,As he throws ’gainst the wall his gun.The fair spinning-maiden’s weeping,And moistens the flax with her tears;The father’s terrier, whining,Curl’d up at her feet appears.
The night is damp and stormy,No star is in the sky;In the wood, ’neath the rustling branchesIn silence wander I.A distant light is twinklingFrom the hunter’s lonely cot;But within, the scene is but saddening,And the light can allure me not.The blind old grandmother’s sittingIn her leather elbow-chair,All-gloomily fix’d like a statue,Not a word escapeth her there.With curses to and fro pacesThe forester’s red-headed son;With fury and scorn he’s laughing,As he throws ’gainst the wall his gun.The fair spinning-maiden’s weeping,And moistens the flax with her tears;The father’s terrier, whining,Curl’d up at her feet appears.
The night is damp and stormy,No star is in the sky;In the wood, ’neath the rustling branchesIn silence wander I.
A distant light is twinklingFrom the hunter’s lonely cot;But within, the scene is but saddening,And the light can allure me not.
The blind old grandmother’s sittingIn her leather elbow-chair,All-gloomily fix’d like a statue,Not a word escapeth her there.
With curses to and fro pacesThe forester’s red-headed son;With fury and scorn he’s laughing,As he throws ’gainst the wall his gun.
The fair spinning-maiden’s weeping,And moistens the flax with her tears;The father’s terrier, whining,Curl’d up at her feet appears.
When I, on my travels, by hazard,My sweetheart’s family found,Her sister and father and mother,—They gave me a welcome all round.When they for my health had inquired,They added, all of a breath,That they thought me quite unalter’d,Though my face was pale as death.I ask’d for their aunts and their cousins,And many a tiresome friend;I ask’d for the little puppyWhose soft bark knew no end.And then for my married sweetheartI ask’d, as if just call’d to mind,And they answer’d, in friendly fashion,That she had but just been confin’d.I gave them my very best wishes,And lovingly begg’d them apartThat they’d give her a thousand greetingsFrom the bottom of my heart.Then cried the little sister:“The small and gentle houndGrew to be big and savage,And in the Rhine was drown’d.”That little one’s like my sweetheart,Solike when she wears a smile!Her eyes are the same as her sister’sWhich caus’d all my mis’ry the while.
When I, on my travels, by hazard,My sweetheart’s family found,Her sister and father and mother,—They gave me a welcome all round.When they for my health had inquired,They added, all of a breath,That they thought me quite unalter’d,Though my face was pale as death.I ask’d for their aunts and their cousins,And many a tiresome friend;I ask’d for the little puppyWhose soft bark knew no end.And then for my married sweetheartI ask’d, as if just call’d to mind,And they answer’d, in friendly fashion,That she had but just been confin’d.I gave them my very best wishes,And lovingly begg’d them apartThat they’d give her a thousand greetingsFrom the bottom of my heart.Then cried the little sister:“The small and gentle houndGrew to be big and savage,And in the Rhine was drown’d.”That little one’s like my sweetheart,Solike when she wears a smile!Her eyes are the same as her sister’sWhich caus’d all my mis’ry the while.
When I, on my travels, by hazard,My sweetheart’s family found,Her sister and father and mother,—They gave me a welcome all round.
When they for my health had inquired,They added, all of a breath,That they thought me quite unalter’d,Though my face was pale as death.
I ask’d for their aunts and their cousins,And many a tiresome friend;I ask’d for the little puppyWhose soft bark knew no end.
And then for my married sweetheartI ask’d, as if just call’d to mind,And they answer’d, in friendly fashion,That she had but just been confin’d.
I gave them my very best wishes,And lovingly begg’d them apartThat they’d give her a thousand greetingsFrom the bottom of my heart.
Then cried the little sister:“The small and gentle houndGrew to be big and savage,And in the Rhine was drown’d.”
That little one’s like my sweetheart,Solike when she wears a smile!Her eyes are the same as her sister’sWhich caus’d all my mis’ry the while.
We sat by the fisherman’s cottage,O’er ocean cast our eye;Then came the mists of evening,And slowly rose on high.The lamps within the light-houseWere kindled, light by light,And in the farthest distanceA ship was still in sight.We spoke of storm and shipwreck,And of the sailor’s strange life,’Twixt sky and water, ’twixt terrorAnd joy in endless strife.We spoke of distant regions,Of North and South spoke we,The many strange races yonder,And customs, strange to see.The air on the Ganges is balmy,And giant-trees extend,And fair and silent mortalsBefore the lotos bend.In Lapland, the people are dirty,Flat-headed, broad-mouthèd, and small;They squat round the fire, bake fishes,And squeak, and speak shrilly, and squall.The maidens earnestly listen’d,At length not a word was said;The ship from sight had vanish’d,For darkness o’er all things was spread.
We sat by the fisherman’s cottage,O’er ocean cast our eye;Then came the mists of evening,And slowly rose on high.The lamps within the light-houseWere kindled, light by light,And in the farthest distanceA ship was still in sight.We spoke of storm and shipwreck,And of the sailor’s strange life,’Twixt sky and water, ’twixt terrorAnd joy in endless strife.We spoke of distant regions,Of North and South spoke we,The many strange races yonder,And customs, strange to see.The air on the Ganges is balmy,And giant-trees extend,And fair and silent mortalsBefore the lotos bend.In Lapland, the people are dirty,Flat-headed, broad-mouthèd, and small;They squat round the fire, bake fishes,And squeak, and speak shrilly, and squall.The maidens earnestly listen’d,At length not a word was said;The ship from sight had vanish’d,For darkness o’er all things was spread.
We sat by the fisherman’s cottage,O’er ocean cast our eye;Then came the mists of evening,And slowly rose on high.
The lamps within the light-houseWere kindled, light by light,And in the farthest distanceA ship was still in sight.
We spoke of storm and shipwreck,And of the sailor’s strange life,’Twixt sky and water, ’twixt terrorAnd joy in endless strife.
We spoke of distant regions,Of North and South spoke we,The many strange races yonder,And customs, strange to see.
The air on the Ganges is balmy,And giant-trees extend,And fair and silent mortalsBefore the lotos bend.
In Lapland, the people are dirty,Flat-headed, broad-mouthèd, and small;They squat round the fire, bake fishes,And squeak, and speak shrilly, and squall.
The maidens earnestly listen’d,At length not a word was said;The ship from sight had vanish’d,For darkness o’er all things was spread.
Thou pretty fisher-maiden,Quick, push thy bark to land;Come hither, and sit beside me,And toy with me, hand in hand.Recline thy head on my bosom,Nor be so fearful of me;Thou trustest thyself, void of terror,Each day to the raging sea.My heart is like the ocean,Hath tempest, ebb, and flow,And many pearls full preciousLie in its depths below.
Thou pretty fisher-maiden,Quick, push thy bark to land;Come hither, and sit beside me,And toy with me, hand in hand.Recline thy head on my bosom,Nor be so fearful of me;Thou trustest thyself, void of terror,Each day to the raging sea.My heart is like the ocean,Hath tempest, ebb, and flow,And many pearls full preciousLie in its depths below.
Thou pretty fisher-maiden,Quick, push thy bark to land;Come hither, and sit beside me,And toy with me, hand in hand.
Recline thy head on my bosom,Nor be so fearful of me;Thou trustest thyself, void of terror,Each day to the raging sea.
My heart is like the ocean,Hath tempest, ebb, and flow,And many pearls full preciousLie in its depths below.
The moon hath softly risen,And o’er the waves doth smile;Mine arms hold my sweetheart in prison,Our hearts both swelling the while.Blest in her sweet embracesI calmly repose on the strand:Hear’st thou aught in the wind as it races?Why shrinks thy snow-white hand?“O, ’tis not the tempest’s commotion,“’Tis the song of the mermaids below;“’Tis the voice of my sisters, whom Ocean“Swallow’d up in its depths long ago.”
The moon hath softly risen,And o’er the waves doth smile;Mine arms hold my sweetheart in prison,Our hearts both swelling the while.Blest in her sweet embracesI calmly repose on the strand:Hear’st thou aught in the wind as it races?Why shrinks thy snow-white hand?“O, ’tis not the tempest’s commotion,“’Tis the song of the mermaids below;“’Tis the voice of my sisters, whom Ocean“Swallow’d up in its depths long ago.”
The moon hath softly risen,And o’er the waves doth smile;Mine arms hold my sweetheart in prison,Our hearts both swelling the while.
Blest in her sweet embracesI calmly repose on the strand:Hear’st thou aught in the wind as it races?Why shrinks thy snow-white hand?
“O, ’tis not the tempest’s commotion,“’Tis the song of the mermaids below;“’Tis the voice of my sisters, whom Ocean“Swallow’d up in its depths long ago.”
On the clouds doth rest the moon,Like a giant-orange gleaming;Broad her streaks, with golden raysO’er the dusky ocean beaming.Lonely roam I by the strandWhile the billows white are breaking;Many sweet words hear I there,From the water’s depths awaking.Ah! the night is long, full long,And my heart must break its slumbers;Beauteous nymphs, come forth to light,Dance! and sing your magic numbers!To your bosom take my head,Soul and body I surrender!Sing me dead, caress me dead,Drain my life with kisses tender.
On the clouds doth rest the moon,Like a giant-orange gleaming;Broad her streaks, with golden raysO’er the dusky ocean beaming.Lonely roam I by the strandWhile the billows white are breaking;Many sweet words hear I there,From the water’s depths awaking.Ah! the night is long, full long,And my heart must break its slumbers;Beauteous nymphs, come forth to light,Dance! and sing your magic numbers!To your bosom take my head,Soul and body I surrender!Sing me dead, caress me dead,Drain my life with kisses tender.
On the clouds doth rest the moon,Like a giant-orange gleaming;Broad her streaks, with golden raysO’er the dusky ocean beaming.
Lonely roam I by the strandWhile the billows white are breaking;Many sweet words hear I there,From the water’s depths awaking.
Ah! the night is long, full long,And my heart must break its slumbers;Beauteous nymphs, come forth to light,Dance! and sing your magic numbers!
To your bosom take my head,Soul and body I surrender!Sing me dead, caress me dead,Drain my life with kisses tender.
In their grey-hued clouds envelop’d,Now the mighty gods are sleeping;And I listen to their snoring,Stormy weather o’er us creeping.Stormy weather! Raging tempestsOn the poor ship bring disaster;On these winds who’ll place a bridle,—On these waves that own no master?I the storm can never hinder,Nor the mast and planks from creaking,So I wrap me in my mantle,Like the gods for slumber seeking.
In their grey-hued clouds envelop’d,Now the mighty gods are sleeping;And I listen to their snoring,Stormy weather o’er us creeping.Stormy weather! Raging tempestsOn the poor ship bring disaster;On these winds who’ll place a bridle,—On these waves that own no master?I the storm can never hinder,Nor the mast and planks from creaking,So I wrap me in my mantle,Like the gods for slumber seeking.
In their grey-hued clouds envelop’d,Now the mighty gods are sleeping;And I listen to their snoring,Stormy weather o’er us creeping.
Stormy weather! Raging tempestsOn the poor ship bring disaster;On these winds who’ll place a bridle,—On these waves that own no master?
I the storm can never hinder,Nor the mast and planks from creaking,So I wrap me in my mantle,Like the gods for slumber seeking.
The wind puts on its breeches again,Its white and watery breeches;It flogs each billow with might and main,Till it howls and rushes and pitches.From the darksome height, with furious mightPours the rain in wild commotion;It seems as though the ancient NightWould drown the ancient Ocean.To the ship’s high mast the sea-mew clings,With hoarse and shrill shrieking and yelling;In anxious-wise she flutters her wings,Approaching disasters foretelling.
The wind puts on its breeches again,Its white and watery breeches;It flogs each billow with might and main,Till it howls and rushes and pitches.From the darksome height, with furious mightPours the rain in wild commotion;It seems as though the ancient NightWould drown the ancient Ocean.To the ship’s high mast the sea-mew clings,With hoarse and shrill shrieking and yelling;In anxious-wise she flutters her wings,Approaching disasters foretelling.
The wind puts on its breeches again,Its white and watery breeches;It flogs each billow with might and main,Till it howls and rushes and pitches.
From the darksome height, with furious mightPours the rain in wild commotion;It seems as though the ancient NightWould drown the ancient Ocean.
To the ship’s high mast the sea-mew clings,With hoarse and shrill shrieking and yelling;In anxious-wise she flutters her wings,Approaching disasters foretelling.
The storm strikes up for dancing,It blusters, pipes, roars with delight;Hurrah, how the bark is springing!How merry and wild is the night!A living watery mountainThe raging sea builds tow’rd the sky;A gloomy abyss here is gaping,There, mounts a white tower on high.A vomiting, cursing, and prayingFrom the cabin bursts forth ’mid the roar;I cling to the mast for protection,And wish I was safely on shore.
The storm strikes up for dancing,It blusters, pipes, roars with delight;Hurrah, how the bark is springing!How merry and wild is the night!A living watery mountainThe raging sea builds tow’rd the sky;A gloomy abyss here is gaping,There, mounts a white tower on high.A vomiting, cursing, and prayingFrom the cabin bursts forth ’mid the roar;I cling to the mast for protection,And wish I was safely on shore.
The storm strikes up for dancing,It blusters, pipes, roars with delight;Hurrah, how the bark is springing!How merry and wild is the night!
A living watery mountainThe raging sea builds tow’rd the sky;A gloomy abyss here is gaping,There, mounts a white tower on high.
A vomiting, cursing, and prayingFrom the cabin bursts forth ’mid the roar;I cling to the mast for protection,And wish I was safely on shore.
’Tis evening, darker ’tis getting,Mist veils the sea from the eye;The waves are mysteriously fretting,White shadows are rising on high.From the billows the mermaid arises,And sits herself near me on shore;The veil which her figure disguisesHer snow-white bosom peeps o’er.She warmly doth caress me,And takes my breath away:Too closely dost thou press me,Thou lovely water-fay!“My arms thus closely caress thee,“I clasp thee with all my might;“In hope of warmth do I press thee,“For cold indeed is the night.”The moon from her dusky cloisterOf clouds, sheds a paler ray;Thine eye grows sadder and moisterThou lovely water-fay!“No sadder nor moister ’tis growing,“Mine eye is moist and wet,“For when from the wave I was going,“A drop remain’d in it yet.”The sea-mew mourns shrilly, while oceanIs growling and heaving its spray;Thy heart throbs with raging emotion,Thou lovely water-fay!“My heart throbs with raging emotion,“Emotion raging and wild;“For I love thee with speechless devotion,“Thou darling human child!”
’Tis evening, darker ’tis getting,Mist veils the sea from the eye;The waves are mysteriously fretting,White shadows are rising on high.From the billows the mermaid arises,And sits herself near me on shore;The veil which her figure disguisesHer snow-white bosom peeps o’er.She warmly doth caress me,And takes my breath away:Too closely dost thou press me,Thou lovely water-fay!“My arms thus closely caress thee,“I clasp thee with all my might;“In hope of warmth do I press thee,“For cold indeed is the night.”The moon from her dusky cloisterOf clouds, sheds a paler ray;Thine eye grows sadder and moisterThou lovely water-fay!“No sadder nor moister ’tis growing,“Mine eye is moist and wet,“For when from the wave I was going,“A drop remain’d in it yet.”The sea-mew mourns shrilly, while oceanIs growling and heaving its spray;Thy heart throbs with raging emotion,Thou lovely water-fay!“My heart throbs with raging emotion,“Emotion raging and wild;“For I love thee with speechless devotion,“Thou darling human child!”
’Tis evening, darker ’tis getting,Mist veils the sea from the eye;The waves are mysteriously fretting,White shadows are rising on high.
From the billows the mermaid arises,And sits herself near me on shore;The veil which her figure disguisesHer snow-white bosom peeps o’er.
She warmly doth caress me,And takes my breath away:Too closely dost thou press me,Thou lovely water-fay!
“My arms thus closely caress thee,“I clasp thee with all my might;“In hope of warmth do I press thee,“For cold indeed is the night.”
The moon from her dusky cloisterOf clouds, sheds a paler ray;Thine eye grows sadder and moisterThou lovely water-fay!
“No sadder nor moister ’tis growing,“Mine eye is moist and wet,“For when from the wave I was going,“A drop remain’d in it yet.”
The sea-mew mourns shrilly, while oceanIs growling and heaving its spray;Thy heart throbs with raging emotion,Thou lovely water-fay!
“My heart throbs with raging emotion,“Emotion raging and wild;“For I love thee with speechless devotion,“Thou darling human child!”
When I before thy dwellingAt morning happen to be,I rejoice, my little sweet one,When thee at thy window I see.With thy dark-brown eyes so piercingMy figure thou dost scan:Who art thou, and what ails thee,Thou strange and sickly man?“I am a German poet,“Well known in the German land;“When the best names in it are reckon’d,“My name amongst them will stand.“My little one, that which ails me“Ails crowds in the German land;“When the fiercest sorrows are reckon’d,“My sorrows amongst them will stand.”
When I before thy dwellingAt morning happen to be,I rejoice, my little sweet one,When thee at thy window I see.With thy dark-brown eyes so piercingMy figure thou dost scan:Who art thou, and what ails thee,Thou strange and sickly man?“I am a German poet,“Well known in the German land;“When the best names in it are reckon’d,“My name amongst them will stand.“My little one, that which ails me“Ails crowds in the German land;“When the fiercest sorrows are reckon’d,“My sorrows amongst them will stand.”
When I before thy dwellingAt morning happen to be,I rejoice, my little sweet one,When thee at thy window I see.
With thy dark-brown eyes so piercingMy figure thou dost scan:Who art thou, and what ails thee,Thou strange and sickly man?
“I am a German poet,“Well known in the German land;“When the best names in it are reckon’d,“My name amongst them will stand.
“My little one, that which ails me“Ails crowds in the German land;“When the fiercest sorrows are reckon’d,“My sorrows amongst them will stand.”
The gleam o’er the ocean had faded not,While the eve’s last rays were flitting;We sat by the lonely fisherman’s cot,Alone and in silence sitting.The waters swell’d, while the mist rose above,The restless sea-mew was screaming;From out thine eyes, so full of love,The tears were quickly streaming.I saw them falling on thy fair hand,And on my knees soon sank I,And then from off thy snow-white handThe tears with rapture drank I.Since that hour, my body hath fast decay’d,My soul is dying with yearning;I was poison’d, alas! by the hapless maidWith her falling tears so burning.
The gleam o’er the ocean had faded not,While the eve’s last rays were flitting;We sat by the lonely fisherman’s cot,Alone and in silence sitting.The waters swell’d, while the mist rose above,The restless sea-mew was screaming;From out thine eyes, so full of love,The tears were quickly streaming.I saw them falling on thy fair hand,And on my knees soon sank I,And then from off thy snow-white handThe tears with rapture drank I.Since that hour, my body hath fast decay’d,My soul is dying with yearning;I was poison’d, alas! by the hapless maidWith her falling tears so burning.
The gleam o’er the ocean had faded not,While the eve’s last rays were flitting;We sat by the lonely fisherman’s cot,Alone and in silence sitting.
The waters swell’d, while the mist rose above,The restless sea-mew was screaming;From out thine eyes, so full of love,The tears were quickly streaming.
I saw them falling on thy fair hand,And on my knees soon sank I,And then from off thy snow-white handThe tears with rapture drank I.
Since that hour, my body hath fast decay’d,My soul is dying with yearning;I was poison’d, alas! by the hapless maidWith her falling tears so burning.
Up high on yonder mountainStands a stately castle alone,Where dwell three beauteous maidens,Whose love in turns I have known.On Saturday Harriet kiss’d me,While Sunday was Julia’s right;On Monday Cunigund follow’d,Who well nigh stifled me quite.To hold a fête in the castleOn Tuesday my maidens agreed;The neighbouring lords and ladiesAll came with carriage or steed.But I was never invited,To your great wonder, no doubt;The whispering aunts and cousinsObserv’d it, and laugh’d right out.
Up high on yonder mountainStands a stately castle alone,Where dwell three beauteous maidens,Whose love in turns I have known.On Saturday Harriet kiss’d me,While Sunday was Julia’s right;On Monday Cunigund follow’d,Who well nigh stifled me quite.To hold a fête in the castleOn Tuesday my maidens agreed;The neighbouring lords and ladiesAll came with carriage or steed.But I was never invited,To your great wonder, no doubt;The whispering aunts and cousinsObserv’d it, and laugh’d right out.
Up high on yonder mountainStands a stately castle alone,Where dwell three beauteous maidens,Whose love in turns I have known.
On Saturday Harriet kiss’d me,While Sunday was Julia’s right;On Monday Cunigund follow’d,Who well nigh stifled me quite.
To hold a fête in the castleOn Tuesday my maidens agreed;The neighbouring lords and ladiesAll came with carriage or steed.
But I was never invited,To your great wonder, no doubt;The whispering aunts and cousinsObserv’d it, and laugh’d right out.
On the dim and far horizonAppeareth, misty and pale,The city, with all its towers,In evening twilight’s veil.A humid gust is rufflingThe path o’er the waters dark;With mournful measure, the sailorIs rowing my tiny bark.The sun once more ariseth,And over the earth gleams he,And shows me the spot out yonderWhere my loved one was lost to me.
On the dim and far horizonAppeareth, misty and pale,The city, with all its towers,In evening twilight’s veil.A humid gust is rufflingThe path o’er the waters dark;With mournful measure, the sailorIs rowing my tiny bark.The sun once more ariseth,And over the earth gleams he,And shows me the spot out yonderWhere my loved one was lost to me.
On the dim and far horizonAppeareth, misty and pale,The city, with all its towers,In evening twilight’s veil.
A humid gust is rufflingThe path o’er the waters dark;With mournful measure, the sailorIs rowing my tiny bark.
The sun once more ariseth,And over the earth gleams he,And shows me the spot out yonderWhere my loved one was lost to me.
All hail to thee, thou statelyMysterious town, all hail,Who erst within thy bosomMy loved one’s form didst veil!O say, ye towers and gateways,O where can my loved one be?To your keeping of yore was she trusted,And ye must her bail be to me.The towers, in truth, are guiltless,From their places they could not come down,When she, with her trunks and boxes,So hastily went from the town.The gates, however, they suffer’dMy darling to slip through them straight;A gate is ever found willingTo let a fool “gang her ain gait.”[23]
All hail to thee, thou statelyMysterious town, all hail,Who erst within thy bosomMy loved one’s form didst veil!O say, ye towers and gateways,O where can my loved one be?To your keeping of yore was she trusted,And ye must her bail be to me.The towers, in truth, are guiltless,From their places they could not come down,When she, with her trunks and boxes,So hastily went from the town.The gates, however, they suffer’dMy darling to slip through them straight;A gate is ever found willingTo let a fool “gang her ain gait.”[23]
All hail to thee, thou statelyMysterious town, all hail,Who erst within thy bosomMy loved one’s form didst veil!
O say, ye towers and gateways,O where can my loved one be?To your keeping of yore was she trusted,And ye must her bail be to me.
The towers, in truth, are guiltless,From their places they could not come down,When she, with her trunks and boxes,So hastily went from the town.
The gates, however, they suffer’dMy darling to slip through them straight;A gate is ever found willingTo let a fool “gang her ain gait.”[23]
Once more my steps through the olden pathAnd the well-known streets are taken,Until I come to my loved one’s house,So empty now and forsaken.How narrow and close the streets appear!How nauseous the smell of the plaster!The houses seem tumbling down on my head,So I haste away, fearing disaster.
Once more my steps through the olden pathAnd the well-known streets are taken,Until I come to my loved one’s house,So empty now and forsaken.How narrow and close the streets appear!How nauseous the smell of the plaster!The houses seem tumbling down on my head,So I haste away, fearing disaster.
Once more my steps through the olden pathAnd the well-known streets are taken,Until I come to my loved one’s house,So empty now and forsaken.
How narrow and close the streets appear!How nauseous the smell of the plaster!The houses seem tumbling down on my head,So I haste away, fearing disaster.
Once more through the halls I pass’dWhere her troth to me was plighted;On the spot where her tears fell fastA serpent’s brood had alighted.
Once more through the halls I pass’dWhere her troth to me was plighted;On the spot where her tears fell fastA serpent’s brood had alighted.
Once more through the halls I pass’dWhere her troth to me was plighted;On the spot where her tears fell fastA serpent’s brood had alighted.
The night is still, and the streets are deserted,In this house my love had her dwelling of yore;’Tis long since she from the city departed,Yet her house still stands on the spot as before.There stands, too, a man, who stares up at her casement,And wrings his hands with the weight of his woes;I look on his face with shudd’ring amazement,—The moon doth the form of myself disclose.Thou pallid fellow, thou worthless double!Why dare to mimic my love’s hard lot,Which many a night gave me grief and troubleIn former days, on this very spot?
The night is still, and the streets are deserted,In this house my love had her dwelling of yore;’Tis long since she from the city departed,Yet her house still stands on the spot as before.There stands, too, a man, who stares up at her casement,And wrings his hands with the weight of his woes;I look on his face with shudd’ring amazement,—The moon doth the form of myself disclose.Thou pallid fellow, thou worthless double!Why dare to mimic my love’s hard lot,Which many a night gave me grief and troubleIn former days, on this very spot?
The night is still, and the streets are deserted,In this house my love had her dwelling of yore;’Tis long since she from the city departed,Yet her house still stands on the spot as before.
There stands, too, a man, who stares up at her casement,And wrings his hands with the weight of his woes;I look on his face with shudd’ring amazement,—The moon doth the form of myself disclose.
Thou pallid fellow, thou worthless double!Why dare to mimic my love’s hard lot,Which many a night gave me grief and troubleIn former days, on this very spot?
How canst thou sleep in quiet,And know that I’m still alive?I burst the yoke that’s upon me,When my olden wrath doth revive.Dost know the ancient ballad:How of yore a dead stripling braveAt midnight came to his loved one,And carried her down to his grave.Believe me, thou wondrous beauty,Thou wondrously lovely maid,I’m alive still, and feel far strongerThan the whole of the dead’s brigade!
How canst thou sleep in quiet,And know that I’m still alive?I burst the yoke that’s upon me,When my olden wrath doth revive.Dost know the ancient ballad:How of yore a dead stripling braveAt midnight came to his loved one,And carried her down to his grave.Believe me, thou wondrous beauty,Thou wondrously lovely maid,I’m alive still, and feel far strongerThan the whole of the dead’s brigade!
How canst thou sleep in quiet,And know that I’m still alive?I burst the yoke that’s upon me,When my olden wrath doth revive.
Dost know the ancient ballad:How of yore a dead stripling braveAt midnight came to his loved one,And carried her down to his grave.
Believe me, thou wondrous beauty,Thou wondrously lovely maid,I’m alive still, and feel far strongerThan the whole of the dead’s brigade!
“The maiden’s asleep in her chamber,“In peeps the quivering moon;“Outside is a singing and jingling,“As though to a waltz’s tune.“I needs must look through my window,“To see who’s disturbing my rest;“There stands a skeleton ghastly“Who’s fiddling and singing his best:“Thy hand for the dance thou didst pledge me,“And then thy promise didst break;“To-night there’s a ball in the churchyard,“Come with me, the dance to partake.“He forcibly seizes the maiden,“And lures her from out her abode;“She follows the skeleton wildly,“Who fiddles and sings on the road.“He hops and he skips and he fiddles,“His bones they rattle away;“With his skull he keeps nidding and nodding,“By the moonlight’s glimmering ray.”
“The maiden’s asleep in her chamber,“In peeps the quivering moon;“Outside is a singing and jingling,“As though to a waltz’s tune.“I needs must look through my window,“To see who’s disturbing my rest;“There stands a skeleton ghastly“Who’s fiddling and singing his best:“Thy hand for the dance thou didst pledge me,“And then thy promise didst break;“To-night there’s a ball in the churchyard,“Come with me, the dance to partake.“He forcibly seizes the maiden,“And lures her from out her abode;“She follows the skeleton wildly,“Who fiddles and sings on the road.“He hops and he skips and he fiddles,“His bones they rattle away;“With his skull he keeps nidding and nodding,“By the moonlight’s glimmering ray.”
“The maiden’s asleep in her chamber,“In peeps the quivering moon;“Outside is a singing and jingling,“As though to a waltz’s tune.
“I needs must look through my window,“To see who’s disturbing my rest;“There stands a skeleton ghastly“Who’s fiddling and singing his best:
“Thy hand for the dance thou didst pledge me,“And then thy promise didst break;“To-night there’s a ball in the churchyard,“Come with me, the dance to partake.
“He forcibly seizes the maiden,“And lures her from out her abode;“She follows the skeleton wildly,“Who fiddles and sings on the road.
“He hops and he skips and he fiddles,“His bones they rattle away;“With his skull he keeps nidding and nodding,“By the moonlight’s glimmering ray.”
I stood, while sadly mused I,And her likeness closely did scan,And her belovèd featuresTo glow with life began.Around her lips there gather’dA sweet and wondrous smile,And as through tears of sorrowHer clear eyes shone the while.And then my tears responsiveAdown my cheeks did pour—And ah! I scarce can believe it,That I’ve lost thee evermore.
I stood, while sadly mused I,And her likeness closely did scan,And her belovèd featuresTo glow with life began.Around her lips there gather’dA sweet and wondrous smile,And as through tears of sorrowHer clear eyes shone the while.And then my tears responsiveAdown my cheeks did pour—And ah! I scarce can believe it,That I’ve lost thee evermore.
I stood, while sadly mused I,And her likeness closely did scan,And her belovèd featuresTo glow with life began.
Around her lips there gather’dA sweet and wondrous smile,And as through tears of sorrowHer clear eyes shone the while.
And then my tears responsiveAdown my cheeks did pour—And ah! I scarce can believe it,That I’ve lost thee evermore.
Unhappy Atlas that I am! I’m doom’dTo bear a world, a very world of sorrows;Unbearable’s the load I bear, and e’enThe heart within me’s breaking.O thou proud heart! thy doing ’twas indeed,Thou wouldst be happy, utterly be happy,Or utterly be wretched, O proud heart,And now in truth thou’rt wretched!
Unhappy Atlas that I am! I’m doom’dTo bear a world, a very world of sorrows;Unbearable’s the load I bear, and e’enThe heart within me’s breaking.O thou proud heart! thy doing ’twas indeed,Thou wouldst be happy, utterly be happy,Or utterly be wretched, O proud heart,And now in truth thou’rt wretched!
Unhappy Atlas that I am! I’m doom’dTo bear a world, a very world of sorrows;Unbearable’s the load I bear, and e’enThe heart within me’s breaking.
O thou proud heart! thy doing ’twas indeed,Thou wouldst be happy, utterly be happy,Or utterly be wretched, O proud heart,And now in truth thou’rt wretched!
The years are coming and going,To the grave whole races descend,And yet the love in my bosomShall never wax fainter or end.O could I but once more behold thee,Before thee sink down on my knee,And die, as these words I utter:Dear Madam, I love but thee!
The years are coming and going,To the grave whole races descend,And yet the love in my bosomShall never wax fainter or end.O could I but once more behold thee,Before thee sink down on my knee,And die, as these words I utter:Dear Madam, I love but thee!
The years are coming and going,To the grave whole races descend,And yet the love in my bosomShall never wax fainter or end.
O could I but once more behold thee,Before thee sink down on my knee,And die, as these words I utter:Dear Madam, I love but thee!
I dreamt: the quivering moon gleam’d above,And the stars cast a mournful ray;I was borne to the town where dwelleth my love,Many hundred miles awayAnd when I arrived at her dwelling so blest,I kiss’d the stones of the stair,Which her little foot so often had press’d,And the train of her garment fair.The night was long, the night was chill,And cold were the stones that night;Her pallid form from the window-sillLook’d down in the moonbeam’s light.
I dreamt: the quivering moon gleam’d above,And the stars cast a mournful ray;I was borne to the town where dwelleth my love,Many hundred miles awayAnd when I arrived at her dwelling so blest,I kiss’d the stones of the stair,Which her little foot so often had press’d,And the train of her garment fair.The night was long, the night was chill,And cold were the stones that night;Her pallid form from the window-sillLook’d down in the moonbeam’s light.
I dreamt: the quivering moon gleam’d above,And the stars cast a mournful ray;I was borne to the town where dwelleth my love,Many hundred miles awayAnd when I arrived at her dwelling so blest,I kiss’d the stones of the stair,Which her little foot so often had press’d,And the train of her garment fair.
The night was long, the night was chill,And cold were the stones that night;Her pallid form from the window-sillLook’d down in the moonbeam’s light.
What means this tear all-lonelyThat troubles now my gaze?Of olden times the offspringStill in mine eye it stays.It had its shining sisters,Who all have faded from sight,With all my joys and sorrows,Yea, faded in storm and night.Like clouds have also fleetedThe stars so blue and mild,Which into my yearning bosomThose joys and sorrows once smiled.Ah! even my love’s devotionLike idle breath did decay;Thou old, old tear all-lonely,Do thou, too, pass away!
What means this tear all-lonelyThat troubles now my gaze?Of olden times the offspringStill in mine eye it stays.It had its shining sisters,Who all have faded from sight,With all my joys and sorrows,Yea, faded in storm and night.Like clouds have also fleetedThe stars so blue and mild,Which into my yearning bosomThose joys and sorrows once smiled.Ah! even my love’s devotionLike idle breath did decay;Thou old, old tear all-lonely,Do thou, too, pass away!
What means this tear all-lonelyThat troubles now my gaze?Of olden times the offspringStill in mine eye it stays.
It had its shining sisters,Who all have faded from sight,With all my joys and sorrows,Yea, faded in storm and night.
Like clouds have also fleetedThe stars so blue and mild,Which into my yearning bosomThose joys and sorrows once smiled.
Ah! even my love’s devotionLike idle breath did decay;Thou old, old tear all-lonely,Do thou, too, pass away!
The pallid autumnal half-moonLooks down from the clouds on high;The parsonage, silent and lonely,By the side of the churchyard doth lie.The mother is reading her Bible,The son on the light turns his eyes,All-sleepy, the elder daughterDoth stretch, while the younger thus cries:“Good heavens, how dreadfully tedious“The days are! I’m quite in despair!“’Tis only when there’s a burial“One sees aught of life, I declare!The mother then says, midst her reading:“You’re mistaken, four only have died“Since the time when they buried your father“By the gate of the churchyard outside.”The elder daughter says gaping:“I’ll starve no longer with you;“I’ll go to the Count to-morrow,“He’s rich and he loves me too.”The son bursts out into laughter:“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;“They’re making money, and gladly“Would teach the secret to me.”The mother then throws her BibleFull hard in his lanky face:“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”They hear a knock at the window,And see a beckoning hand;And behold, outside the dead fatherIn his black preaching-garment doth stand.
The pallid autumnal half-moonLooks down from the clouds on high;The parsonage, silent and lonely,By the side of the churchyard doth lie.The mother is reading her Bible,The son on the light turns his eyes,All-sleepy, the elder daughterDoth stretch, while the younger thus cries:“Good heavens, how dreadfully tedious“The days are! I’m quite in despair!“’Tis only when there’s a burial“One sees aught of life, I declare!The mother then says, midst her reading:“You’re mistaken, four only have died“Since the time when they buried your father“By the gate of the churchyard outside.”The elder daughter says gaping:“I’ll starve no longer with you;“I’ll go to the Count to-morrow,“He’s rich and he loves me too.”The son bursts out into laughter:“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;“They’re making money, and gladly“Would teach the secret to me.”The mother then throws her BibleFull hard in his lanky face:“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”They hear a knock at the window,And see a beckoning hand;And behold, outside the dead fatherIn his black preaching-garment doth stand.
The pallid autumnal half-moonLooks down from the clouds on high;The parsonage, silent and lonely,By the side of the churchyard doth lie.
The mother is reading her Bible,The son on the light turns his eyes,All-sleepy, the elder daughterDoth stretch, while the younger thus cries:
“Good heavens, how dreadfully tedious“The days are! I’m quite in despair!“’Tis only when there’s a burial“One sees aught of life, I declare!
The mother then says, midst her reading:“You’re mistaken, four only have died“Since the time when they buried your father“By the gate of the churchyard outside.”
The elder daughter says gaping:“I’ll starve no longer with you;“I’ll go to the Count to-morrow,“He’s rich and he loves me too.”
The son bursts out into laughter:“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;“They’re making money, and gladly“Would teach the secret to me.”
The mother then throws her BibleFull hard in his lanky face:“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”
They hear a knock at the window,And see a beckoning hand;And behold, outside the dead fatherIn his black preaching-garment doth stand.
The weather is bad and stormy,With rain and tempest and snow;I sit at the window, gazingOn the gloomy darkness below.One single light I see glimm’ringThat slowly moves in the street;’Tis a woman holding a lantern,And walking with tottering feet.I expect that she’s making a purchaseOf meal and butter and eggs;’Tis to bake a cake for her daughterThat she is out now on her legs.The daughter’s at home in the arm-chairAnd sleepily looks at the light,Her golden locks stray overHer face so lovely and bright.
The weather is bad and stormy,With rain and tempest and snow;I sit at the window, gazingOn the gloomy darkness below.One single light I see glimm’ringThat slowly moves in the street;’Tis a woman holding a lantern,And walking with tottering feet.I expect that she’s making a purchaseOf meal and butter and eggs;’Tis to bake a cake for her daughterThat she is out now on her legs.The daughter’s at home in the arm-chairAnd sleepily looks at the light,Her golden locks stray overHer face so lovely and bright.
The weather is bad and stormy,With rain and tempest and snow;I sit at the window, gazingOn the gloomy darkness below.
One single light I see glimm’ringThat slowly moves in the street;’Tis a woman holding a lantern,And walking with tottering feet.
I expect that she’s making a purchaseOf meal and butter and eggs;’Tis to bake a cake for her daughterThat she is out now on her legs.
The daughter’s at home in the arm-chairAnd sleepily looks at the light,Her golden locks stray overHer face so lovely and bright.
’Tis thought that I am tormented,By love’s bitter sorrow distress’d,And at length I myself believe itAs well as all the rest.Thou great-eyed little maiden,I ever have whisper’d apart:I love thee beyond expression,While love is gnawing my heart.’Twas but in my lonely chamberThat I dared my love to proclaim,And, ah! I have ever been silent,When into thy presence I came.When there, the evil angelsAppear’d, and my lips they held;And, ah! ’tis by evil angelsThat my joy hath now been dispell’d.
’Tis thought that I am tormented,By love’s bitter sorrow distress’d,And at length I myself believe itAs well as all the rest.Thou great-eyed little maiden,I ever have whisper’d apart:I love thee beyond expression,While love is gnawing my heart.’Twas but in my lonely chamberThat I dared my love to proclaim,And, ah! I have ever been silent,When into thy presence I came.When there, the evil angelsAppear’d, and my lips they held;And, ah! ’tis by evil angelsThat my joy hath now been dispell’d.
’Tis thought that I am tormented,By love’s bitter sorrow distress’d,And at length I myself believe itAs well as all the rest.
Thou great-eyed little maiden,I ever have whisper’d apart:I love thee beyond expression,While love is gnawing my heart.
’Twas but in my lonely chamberThat I dared my love to proclaim,And, ah! I have ever been silent,When into thy presence I came.
When there, the evil angelsAppear’d, and my lips they held;And, ah! ’tis by evil angelsThat my joy hath now been dispell’d.
O thy tender lily-fingers,Could I once again but kiss them,Press them softly to my heart,And then die in silent weeping!O thy violet eyes so radiantHover near me day and night,And I’m troubled: what forebodethAll this sweet, this blue enigma?
O thy tender lily-fingers,Could I once again but kiss them,Press them softly to my heart,And then die in silent weeping!O thy violet eyes so radiantHover near me day and night,And I’m troubled: what forebodethAll this sweet, this blue enigma?
O thy tender lily-fingers,Could I once again but kiss them,Press them softly to my heart,And then die in silent weeping!
O thy violet eyes so radiantHover near me day and night,And I’m troubled: what forebodethAll this sweet, this blue enigma?
“Hath she then no word e’er spoken“Of thy passion, hapless lover?“In her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Signs of answering love discover?“Through her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Reach her soul, and so get at her?“Yet thou art not thought a blockhead,“Worthy friend, in such a matter.”
“Hath she then no word e’er spoken“Of thy passion, hapless lover?“In her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Signs of answering love discover?“Through her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Reach her soul, and so get at her?“Yet thou art not thought a blockhead,“Worthy friend, in such a matter.”
“Hath she then no word e’er spoken“Of thy passion, hapless lover?“In her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Signs of answering love discover?
“Through her sweet eyes couldst thou never“Reach her soul, and so get at her?“Yet thou art not thought a blockhead,“Worthy friend, in such a matter.”
They loved each other, but neitherWould be the first to confess;Like foes, they gaz’d at each other,And would die of their love’s distress.They parted at length, and thereafter,Except in vision, ne’er met;From life they long have departed,And scarcely know of it yet.
They loved each other, but neitherWould be the first to confess;Like foes, they gaz’d at each other,And would die of their love’s distress.They parted at length, and thereafter,Except in vision, ne’er met;From life they long have departed,And scarcely know of it yet.
They loved each other, but neitherWould be the first to confess;Like foes, they gaz’d at each other,And would die of their love’s distress.
They parted at length, and thereafter,Except in vision, ne’er met;From life they long have departed,And scarcely know of it yet.
And when I to you my grief did confide,You only yawn’d, and nothing replied;But when I reduced my sorrow to rhyme,You praised me greatly, and call’d it sublime.
And when I to you my grief did confide,You only yawn’d, and nothing replied;But when I reduced my sorrow to rhyme,You praised me greatly, and call’d it sublime.
And when I to you my grief did confide,You only yawn’d, and nothing replied;But when I reduced my sorrow to rhyme,You praised me greatly, and call’d it sublime.
I call’d the devil, and he came,And with wonder his form did I closely scan;He is not ugly, and is not lame,But really a handsome and charming man.A man in the prime of life is the devil,Obliging, a man of the world, and civil;A diplomatist too, well skill’d in debate,He talks right glibly of church and state.He’s rather pale, but it’s really not strange,For his studies through Sanskrit and Hegel range.Fouqué is still his favourite poet;But criticism he’ll touch no more,But has handed that subject entirely o’erTo his grandmother Hecate, that she may know it.My juridical works did he kindly praise,His favourite hobby in former days.He said that my friendship was not too dear,And then he nodded, and look’d severe,And afterwards asked if it wasn’t the caseWe had met at the Spanish ambassador’s rout?And when I look’d him full in the faceI saw him to be an old friend without doubt.
I call’d the devil, and he came,And with wonder his form did I closely scan;He is not ugly, and is not lame,But really a handsome and charming man.A man in the prime of life is the devil,Obliging, a man of the world, and civil;A diplomatist too, well skill’d in debate,He talks right glibly of church and state.He’s rather pale, but it’s really not strange,For his studies through Sanskrit and Hegel range.Fouqué is still his favourite poet;But criticism he’ll touch no more,But has handed that subject entirely o’erTo his grandmother Hecate, that she may know it.My juridical works did he kindly praise,His favourite hobby in former days.He said that my friendship was not too dear,And then he nodded, and look’d severe,And afterwards asked if it wasn’t the caseWe had met at the Spanish ambassador’s rout?And when I look’d him full in the faceI saw him to be an old friend without doubt.
I call’d the devil, and he came,And with wonder his form did I closely scan;He is not ugly, and is not lame,But really a handsome and charming man.A man in the prime of life is the devil,Obliging, a man of the world, and civil;A diplomatist too, well skill’d in debate,He talks right glibly of church and state.He’s rather pale, but it’s really not strange,For his studies through Sanskrit and Hegel range.Fouqué is still his favourite poet;But criticism he’ll touch no more,But has handed that subject entirely o’erTo his grandmother Hecate, that she may know it.My juridical works did he kindly praise,His favourite hobby in former days.He said that my friendship was not too dear,And then he nodded, and look’d severe,And afterwards asked if it wasn’t the caseWe had met at the Spanish ambassador’s rout?And when I look’d him full in the faceI saw him to be an old friend without doubt.
Man, revile not thou the devil,For the path of life is short,And damnation everlastingIs too true, not mere report.Man, pay all the debts thou owest,For the path of life is long,And thou’lt often have to borrowJust as usual, right or wrong.
Man, revile not thou the devil,For the path of life is short,And damnation everlastingIs too true, not mere report.Man, pay all the debts thou owest,For the path of life is long,And thou’lt often have to borrowJust as usual, right or wrong.
Man, revile not thou the devil,For the path of life is short,And damnation everlastingIs too true, not mere report.
Man, pay all the debts thou owest,For the path of life is long,And thou’lt often have to borrowJust as usual, right or wrong.
The three holy kings from the Eastern landInquired in every city:Where goeth the road to Bethlehem,Ye boys and maidens pretty?The young and the old, they could not tell,The kings went onward discreetly;They follow’d the track of a golden star,That sparkled brightly and sweetly.The star stood still over Joseph’s house,And they enter’d the dwelling lowly;The oxen bellow’d, the infant cried,While sang the three kings holy.
The three holy kings from the Eastern landInquired in every city:Where goeth the road to Bethlehem,Ye boys and maidens pretty?The young and the old, they could not tell,The kings went onward discreetly;They follow’d the track of a golden star,That sparkled brightly and sweetly.The star stood still over Joseph’s house,And they enter’d the dwelling lowly;The oxen bellow’d, the infant cried,While sang the three kings holy.
The three holy kings from the Eastern landInquired in every city:Where goeth the road to Bethlehem,Ye boys and maidens pretty?
The young and the old, they could not tell,The kings went onward discreetly;They follow’d the track of a golden star,That sparkled brightly and sweetly.
The star stood still over Joseph’s house,And they enter’d the dwelling lowly;The oxen bellow’d, the infant cried,While sang the three kings holy.
My child, we once were children,Two children, little and gay;We crawl’d inside the henhouse,And hid in the straw in play.We crow’d as the cocks are accustom’d,And when the people came by,“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”—and they fancied’Twas really the cock’s shrill cry.The chests within our courtyardWith paper we nicely lined,And in them lived together,In a dwelling quite to our mind.The aged cat of our neighbourCame oft to visit us there;We made her our bows and our curtsies,And plenty of compliments fair.For her health we used to inquireIn language friendly and soft;Since then we have ask’d the same questionOf many old cats full oft.We used to sit, while we wiselyDiscoursed, in the way of old men,And lamented that all was betterIn the olden days than then;How love and truth and religionFrom out of the world had fled,How very dear was the coffee,How scarce was the gold, we said.Those childish sports have vanish’d,And all is fast rolling away;The world, and the times, and religion,And gold, love, and truth all decay.
My child, we once were children,Two children, little and gay;We crawl’d inside the henhouse,And hid in the straw in play.We crow’d as the cocks are accustom’d,And when the people came by,“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”—and they fancied’Twas really the cock’s shrill cry.The chests within our courtyardWith paper we nicely lined,And in them lived together,In a dwelling quite to our mind.The aged cat of our neighbourCame oft to visit us there;We made her our bows and our curtsies,And plenty of compliments fair.For her health we used to inquireIn language friendly and soft;Since then we have ask’d the same questionOf many old cats full oft.We used to sit, while we wiselyDiscoursed, in the way of old men,And lamented that all was betterIn the olden days than then;How love and truth and religionFrom out of the world had fled,How very dear was the coffee,How scarce was the gold, we said.Those childish sports have vanish’d,And all is fast rolling away;The world, and the times, and religion,And gold, love, and truth all decay.
My child, we once were children,Two children, little and gay;We crawl’d inside the henhouse,And hid in the straw in play.
We crow’d as the cocks are accustom’d,And when the people came by,“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”—and they fancied’Twas really the cock’s shrill cry.
The chests within our courtyardWith paper we nicely lined,And in them lived together,In a dwelling quite to our mind.
The aged cat of our neighbourCame oft to visit us there;We made her our bows and our curtsies,And plenty of compliments fair.
For her health we used to inquireIn language friendly and soft;Since then we have ask’d the same questionOf many old cats full oft.
We used to sit, while we wiselyDiscoursed, in the way of old men,And lamented that all was betterIn the olden days than then;
How love and truth and religionFrom out of the world had fled,How very dear was the coffee,How scarce was the gold, we said.
Those childish sports have vanish’d,And all is fast rolling away;The world, and the times, and religion,And gold, love, and truth all decay.
My heart is sore oppress’d, with sighingI think upon the days of yore;The world was then in calmness lying,And men were peaceful evermore.All now is changed, in mournful chorusWant and confusion round us spread;The Lord seems dead that erst rul’d o’er usBeneath us, is the Devil dead.All now appears so drear and sadden’d,Decay’d and cold, of joy bereft,That, were we not by love still gladden’d,No single resting-place were left.
My heart is sore oppress’d, with sighingI think upon the days of yore;The world was then in calmness lying,And men were peaceful evermore.All now is changed, in mournful chorusWant and confusion round us spread;The Lord seems dead that erst rul’d o’er usBeneath us, is the Devil dead.All now appears so drear and sadden’d,Decay’d and cold, of joy bereft,That, were we not by love still gladden’d,No single resting-place were left.
My heart is sore oppress’d, with sighingI think upon the days of yore;The world was then in calmness lying,And men were peaceful evermore.
All now is changed, in mournful chorusWant and confusion round us spread;The Lord seems dead that erst rul’d o’er usBeneath us, is the Devil dead.
All now appears so drear and sadden’d,Decay’d and cold, of joy bereft,That, were we not by love still gladden’d,No single resting-place were left.
As the gleaming moon is piercingThrough the darksome clouds above,So from out time’s darksome mirrorPeeps a vision full of love.All upon the deck were sitting,Proudly sailing down the Rhine,And the shores, in summer verdure,In the setting sun did shine.Thoughtfully was I reclining,Bent before a lovely maid;In her beauteous, pallid featuresLo, the golden sunlight play’d.Lutes were sounding, youths were singing,Wondrous was our joy that day;And the heavens became still bluer,And our souls soar’d high away.Hills and castles, woods and meadows,Like a vision fleeted by,And I saw them all reflectedIn the lovely maiden’s eye.
As the gleaming moon is piercingThrough the darksome clouds above,So from out time’s darksome mirrorPeeps a vision full of love.All upon the deck were sitting,Proudly sailing down the Rhine,And the shores, in summer verdure,In the setting sun did shine.Thoughtfully was I reclining,Bent before a lovely maid;In her beauteous, pallid featuresLo, the golden sunlight play’d.Lutes were sounding, youths were singing,Wondrous was our joy that day;And the heavens became still bluer,And our souls soar’d high away.Hills and castles, woods and meadows,Like a vision fleeted by,And I saw them all reflectedIn the lovely maiden’s eye.
As the gleaming moon is piercingThrough the darksome clouds above,So from out time’s darksome mirrorPeeps a vision full of love.
All upon the deck were sitting,Proudly sailing down the Rhine,And the shores, in summer verdure,In the setting sun did shine.
Thoughtfully was I reclining,Bent before a lovely maid;In her beauteous, pallid featuresLo, the golden sunlight play’d.
Lutes were sounding, youths were singing,Wondrous was our joy that day;And the heavens became still bluer,And our souls soar’d high away.
Hills and castles, woods and meadows,Like a vision fleeted by,And I saw them all reflectedIn the lovely maiden’s eye.