In vision saw I my loved oneA worn, sad woman one day;Her once so-blooming figureHad wither’d and fallen away.A child in her arms she carried,By the hand another she led,And grief and poverty plainlyIn her walk, looks, and garments I read.Across the market she totter’d,And then did I meet her eye;She looked upon me, and gentlyI spake to her thus, with a sigh:“Come with me to my dwelling,“For thou art pale and ill,“And food and drink I’ll earn thee“By industry and skill.“I’ll also nourish and cherish“The children that with thee I see;“But, my child so poor and unhappy,“I’ll care the most for thee.“I never will remind thee“That I loved thee so dearly of yore,“And when at length thou diest,“I’ll weep at thy grave full sore.”
In vision saw I my loved oneA worn, sad woman one day;Her once so-blooming figureHad wither’d and fallen away.A child in her arms she carried,By the hand another she led,And grief and poverty plainlyIn her walk, looks, and garments I read.Across the market she totter’d,And then did I meet her eye;She looked upon me, and gentlyI spake to her thus, with a sigh:“Come with me to my dwelling,“For thou art pale and ill,“And food and drink I’ll earn thee“By industry and skill.“I’ll also nourish and cherish“The children that with thee I see;“But, my child so poor and unhappy,“I’ll care the most for thee.“I never will remind thee“That I loved thee so dearly of yore,“And when at length thou diest,“I’ll weep at thy grave full sore.”
In vision saw I my loved oneA worn, sad woman one day;Her once so-blooming figureHad wither’d and fallen away.
A child in her arms she carried,By the hand another she led,And grief and poverty plainlyIn her walk, looks, and garments I read.
Across the market she totter’d,And then did I meet her eye;She looked upon me, and gentlyI spake to her thus, with a sigh:
“Come with me to my dwelling,“For thou art pale and ill,“And food and drink I’ll earn thee“By industry and skill.
“I’ll also nourish and cherish“The children that with thee I see;“But, my child so poor and unhappy,“I’ll care the most for thee.
“I never will remind thee“That I loved thee so dearly of yore,“And when at length thou diest,“I’ll weep at thy grave full sore.”
“Friend! why always thus endeavour“To repeat the same old story?“Wilt thou brooding sit for ever“On love’s eggs grown old and hoary?“Ah! ’tis but the usual custom,“Chickens from the shells are crawling;“In a book thou seek’st to thrust ’em,“While they’re fluttering and calling!”
“Friend! why always thus endeavour“To repeat the same old story?“Wilt thou brooding sit for ever“On love’s eggs grown old and hoary?“Ah! ’tis but the usual custom,“Chickens from the shells are crawling;“In a book thou seek’st to thrust ’em,“While they’re fluttering and calling!”
“Friend! why always thus endeavour“To repeat the same old story?“Wilt thou brooding sit for ever“On love’s eggs grown old and hoary?
“Ah! ’tis but the usual custom,“Chickens from the shells are crawling;“In a book thou seek’st to thrust ’em,“While they’re fluttering and calling!”
Prythee, be not thou impatientIf there still are loudly ringingMany of my old sad numbersIn the newest songs I’m singing.Wait awhile, and soon the echoWill have died away of sorrow,And a new-born song-spring softlyFrom the heal’d heart shoot to-morrow.
Prythee, be not thou impatientIf there still are loudly ringingMany of my old sad numbersIn the newest songs I’m singing.Wait awhile, and soon the echoWill have died away of sorrow,And a new-born song-spring softlyFrom the heal’d heart shoot to-morrow.
Prythee, be not thou impatientIf there still are loudly ringingMany of my old sad numbersIn the newest songs I’m singing.
Wait awhile, and soon the echoWill have died away of sorrow,And a new-born song-spring softlyFrom the heal’d heart shoot to-morrow.
’Tis now full time that my folly I drop,And return to sober reason;This comedy now ’twere better to stopThat we’ve played for so long a season.In a gay and highly romantic styleThe gorgeous coulisses were painted;My knight’s cloak glitter’d, while I was the whileWith the finest sensations acquainted.And now that I, while more sober I grow,Am against this toying inveighing,I feel that I’m still as wretched as thoughA comedy still I were playing.Alas! unconsciously and in jestOf my feelings was I the narrator;And I’ve play’d, with my own death in my breast,The dying gladiator.
’Tis now full time that my folly I drop,And return to sober reason;This comedy now ’twere better to stopThat we’ve played for so long a season.In a gay and highly romantic styleThe gorgeous coulisses were painted;My knight’s cloak glitter’d, while I was the whileWith the finest sensations acquainted.And now that I, while more sober I grow,Am against this toying inveighing,I feel that I’m still as wretched as thoughA comedy still I were playing.Alas! unconsciously and in jestOf my feelings was I the narrator;And I’ve play’d, with my own death in my breast,The dying gladiator.
’Tis now full time that my folly I drop,And return to sober reason;This comedy now ’twere better to stopThat we’ve played for so long a season.
In a gay and highly romantic styleThe gorgeous coulisses were painted;My knight’s cloak glitter’d, while I was the whileWith the finest sensations acquainted.
And now that I, while more sober I grow,Am against this toying inveighing,I feel that I’m still as wretched as thoughA comedy still I were playing.
Alas! unconsciously and in jestOf my feelings was I the narrator;And I’ve play’d, with my own death in my breast,The dying gladiator.
The monarch Wiswamitra,Is restlessly striving now;He must needs, by fighting and penance,Obtain Wasischta’s cow.O monarch Wiswamitra,O what an ox art thou,To have all this fighting and penance,And all for nought but a cow!
The monarch Wiswamitra,Is restlessly striving now;He must needs, by fighting and penance,Obtain Wasischta’s cow.O monarch Wiswamitra,O what an ox art thou,To have all this fighting and penance,And all for nought but a cow!
The monarch Wiswamitra,Is restlessly striving now;He must needs, by fighting and penance,Obtain Wasischta’s cow.
O monarch Wiswamitra,O what an ox art thou,To have all this fighting and penance,And all for nought but a cow!
Let not grief, my heart, come o’er theeBear thy lot with faith unshaken,For what winter may have takenWill returning spring restore thee.And how much remaineth over!And how fair the world is still!And, my heart, if ’tis thy will,Thou of All mayst be the lover!
Let not grief, my heart, come o’er theeBear thy lot with faith unshaken,For what winter may have takenWill returning spring restore thee.And how much remaineth over!And how fair the world is still!And, my heart, if ’tis thy will,Thou of All mayst be the lover!
Let not grief, my heart, come o’er theeBear thy lot with faith unshaken,For what winter may have takenWill returning spring restore thee.
And how much remaineth over!And how fair the world is still!And, my heart, if ’tis thy will,Thou of All mayst be the lover!
A flow’ret thou resemblest,So pure and fair and blest;But when I view thee, sorrowStraight creepeth to my breast.I feel as though inspiredMy hands on thy head to lay,And pray that God may keep theeSo blest, fair, pure, for aye.
A flow’ret thou resemblest,So pure and fair and blest;But when I view thee, sorrowStraight creepeth to my breast.I feel as though inspiredMy hands on thy head to lay,And pray that God may keep theeSo blest, fair, pure, for aye.
A flow’ret thou resemblest,So pure and fair and blest;But when I view thee, sorrowStraight creepeth to my breast.
I feel as though inspiredMy hands on thy head to lay,And pray that God may keep theeSo blest, fair, pure, for aye.
Child! it would be thy perdition,And the greatest pains I’ve takenNe’er within thy fond heart tow’rd meLoving feelings to awaken.Now that I’ve so soon succeeded,To my vow I’m wellnigh faithless,And this thought steals o’er me often:Would that thou could’st love me nathless.
Child! it would be thy perdition,And the greatest pains I’ve takenNe’er within thy fond heart tow’rd meLoving feelings to awaken.Now that I’ve so soon succeeded,To my vow I’m wellnigh faithless,And this thought steals o’er me often:Would that thou could’st love me nathless.
Child! it would be thy perdition,And the greatest pains I’ve takenNe’er within thy fond heart tow’rd meLoving feelings to awaken.
Now that I’ve so soon succeeded,To my vow I’m wellnigh faithless,And this thought steals o’er me often:Would that thou could’st love me nathless.
When on my couch I’m lyingIn night and pillows conceal’d,A sweet and charming imageBefore me stands reveal’d.As soon as silent slumberHath closed mine eyes in sleep,Into my dream this imageDoth softly, gently creep.Yet with the dream of morningIt ne’er doth melt away,For in mine inmost bosomI bear it all the day.
When on my couch I’m lyingIn night and pillows conceal’d,A sweet and charming imageBefore me stands reveal’d.As soon as silent slumberHath closed mine eyes in sleep,Into my dream this imageDoth softly, gently creep.Yet with the dream of morningIt ne’er doth melt away,For in mine inmost bosomI bear it all the day.
When on my couch I’m lyingIn night and pillows conceal’d,A sweet and charming imageBefore me stands reveal’d.
As soon as silent slumberHath closed mine eyes in sleep,Into my dream this imageDoth softly, gently creep.
Yet with the dream of morningIt ne’er doth melt away,For in mine inmost bosomI bear it all the day.
Maiden with the mouth so rosy,With the eyes so sweet and bright,O my darling little maiden,I of thee think day and night.Long is now the winter evening,Fain would I disperse its gloom,Sitting by thee, talking with theeIn thy trusty little room.To my lips I’d fain be pressingThy dear little snowy hand,With my falling tears caressingThy dear little snowy hand.
Maiden with the mouth so rosy,With the eyes so sweet and bright,O my darling little maiden,I of thee think day and night.Long is now the winter evening,Fain would I disperse its gloom,Sitting by thee, talking with theeIn thy trusty little room.To my lips I’d fain be pressingThy dear little snowy hand,With my falling tears caressingThy dear little snowy hand.
Maiden with the mouth so rosy,With the eyes so sweet and bright,O my darling little maiden,I of thee think day and night.
Long is now the winter evening,Fain would I disperse its gloom,Sitting by thee, talking with theeIn thy trusty little room.
To my lips I’d fain be pressingThy dear little snowy hand,With my falling tears caressingThy dear little snowy hand.
Though outside snow-piles are forming,Though ’tis hailing, though ’tis storming,Rattling ’gainst the window-pane,Nevermore will I complain,For within my breast I bearSpring-joys and love’s image fair.
Though outside snow-piles are forming,Though ’tis hailing, though ’tis storming,Rattling ’gainst the window-pane,Nevermore will I complain,For within my breast I bearSpring-joys and love’s image fair.
Though outside snow-piles are forming,Though ’tis hailing, though ’tis storming,Rattling ’gainst the window-pane,Nevermore will I complain,For within my breast I bearSpring-joys and love’s image fair.
Some make prayers to the Madonna,Others unto Paul and Peter;Thee alone, of suns the fairest,Thee alone will I e’er honour.Let me be with kisses laden,Be thou kindly, be thou gracious,’Mongst all maidens sun the fairest,’Neath the sun the fairest maiden!
Some make prayers to the Madonna,Others unto Paul and Peter;Thee alone, of suns the fairest,Thee alone will I e’er honour.Let me be with kisses laden,Be thou kindly, be thou gracious,’Mongst all maidens sun the fairest,’Neath the sun the fairest maiden!
Some make prayers to the Madonna,Others unto Paul and Peter;Thee alone, of suns the fairest,Thee alone will I e’er honour.
Let me be with kisses laden,Be thou kindly, be thou gracious,’Mongst all maidens sun the fairest,’Neath the sun the fairest maiden!
Did not my pallid face betrayMy loving woe unto thee?And wilt thou that my haughty mouthWith begging words shall woo thee?Alas! this mouth is far too proud,’Twas made but for kissing and sighing;Perchance it may speak a scornful word,While I with sorrow am dying.
Did not my pallid face betrayMy loving woe unto thee?And wilt thou that my haughty mouthWith begging words shall woo thee?Alas! this mouth is far too proud,’Twas made but for kissing and sighing;Perchance it may speak a scornful word,While I with sorrow am dying.
Did not my pallid face betrayMy loving woe unto thee?And wilt thou that my haughty mouthWith begging words shall woo thee?
Alas! this mouth is far too proud,’Twas made but for kissing and sighing;Perchance it may speak a scornful word,While I with sorrow am dying.
Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And beneath new pangs thou’rt fretting;Darker grows it in thy head,In thy heart ’tis lighter getting.Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And thou fain would’st hide thy yearningYet I see thy heart’s fierce glowThrough thy waistcoat hotly burning.
Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And beneath new pangs thou’rt fretting;Darker grows it in thy head,In thy heart ’tis lighter getting.Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And thou fain would’st hide thy yearningYet I see thy heart’s fierce glowThrough thy waistcoat hotly burning.
Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And beneath new pangs thou’rt fretting;Darker grows it in thy head,In thy heart ’tis lighter getting.
Worthy friend, thou’rt deep in love,And thou fain would’st hide thy yearningYet I see thy heart’s fierce glowThrough thy waistcoat hotly burning.
I fain would linger by thee,And rest beside thee too;Away thou needs must hie thee,Thou hast so much to do.I said that I surrender’dMy very soul to thee;An answering bow was tender’d,Thou laughedst full of glee.Thou cruelly didst use me,And treat my love amiss;At last thou didst refuse meThe usual parting kiss.Don’t think that I deem it my dutyTo shoot myself any the more;For all of this, my beauty,Has happen’d to me before.
I fain would linger by thee,And rest beside thee too;Away thou needs must hie thee,Thou hast so much to do.I said that I surrender’dMy very soul to thee;An answering bow was tender’d,Thou laughedst full of glee.Thou cruelly didst use me,And treat my love amiss;At last thou didst refuse meThe usual parting kiss.Don’t think that I deem it my dutyTo shoot myself any the more;For all of this, my beauty,Has happen’d to me before.
I fain would linger by thee,And rest beside thee too;Away thou needs must hie thee,Thou hast so much to do.
I said that I surrender’dMy very soul to thee;An answering bow was tender’d,Thou laughedst full of glee.
Thou cruelly didst use me,And treat my love amiss;At last thou didst refuse meThe usual parting kiss.
Don’t think that I deem it my dutyTo shoot myself any the more;For all of this, my beauty,Has happen’d to me before.
A pair of sapphires are thine eyes,So clear, so sweetly roving;O three times happy is the manWhom those fair eyes are loving.Thy heart, it is a diamond,A sparkling radiance throwing;O three times happy is the manFor whom with love ’tis glowing.Thy lips are very rubies bright,One never can see fairer;O three times happy is the manWho of their love is sharer.O did I know the happy man!O could I unattendedWithin the green wood meet with him,—His luck would soon be ended!
A pair of sapphires are thine eyes,So clear, so sweetly roving;O three times happy is the manWhom those fair eyes are loving.Thy heart, it is a diamond,A sparkling radiance throwing;O three times happy is the manFor whom with love ’tis glowing.Thy lips are very rubies bright,One never can see fairer;O three times happy is the manWho of their love is sharer.O did I know the happy man!O could I unattendedWithin the green wood meet with him,—His luck would soon be ended!
A pair of sapphires are thine eyes,So clear, so sweetly roving;O three times happy is the manWhom those fair eyes are loving.
Thy heart, it is a diamond,A sparkling radiance throwing;O three times happy is the manFor whom with love ’tis glowing.
Thy lips are very rubies bright,One never can see fairer;O three times happy is the manWho of their love is sharer.
O did I know the happy man!O could I unattendedWithin the green wood meet with him,—His luck would soon be ended!
While with loving words, but lying,I have bound me to thy breast,Now in my own fetters dying,Into earnest turns my jest.When thou jestingly dost fly me,By a rightful impulse led,Then the powers of hell draw nigh me,And I really shoot me dead.
While with loving words, but lying,I have bound me to thy breast,Now in my own fetters dying,Into earnest turns my jest.When thou jestingly dost fly me,By a rightful impulse led,Then the powers of hell draw nigh me,And I really shoot me dead.
While with loving words, but lying,I have bound me to thy breast,Now in my own fetters dying,Into earnest turns my jest.
When thou jestingly dost fly me,By a rightful impulse led,Then the powers of hell draw nigh me,And I really shoot me dead.
Too fragmentary is World and Life;I’ll go to the German professor, who’s rifeWith schemes for putting Life’s pieces together,Whereby a passable System’s unfurl’d;Ragged nightcaps and dressing-gowns keep out the weather,Stop the gaps in the edifice crack’d of the world.
Too fragmentary is World and Life;I’ll go to the German professor, who’s rifeWith schemes for putting Life’s pieces together,Whereby a passable System’s unfurl’d;Ragged nightcaps and dressing-gowns keep out the weather,Stop the gaps in the edifice crack’d of the world.
Too fragmentary is World and Life;I’ll go to the German professor, who’s rifeWith schemes for putting Life’s pieces together,Whereby a passable System’s unfurl’d;Ragged nightcaps and dressing-gowns keep out the weather,Stop the gaps in the edifice crack’d of the world.
This evening they’ve a party,The house is fill’d with light;By yonder shining windowA shadowy form’s in sight.Thou see’st me not, in darknessI stand below and apart;Still less canst thou see everInside my darksome heart.My darksome heart doth love thee,It loves thee and it breaks,And breaks, and bleeds, and quivers,But thou see’st not how it aches.
This evening they’ve a party,The house is fill’d with light;By yonder shining windowA shadowy form’s in sight.Thou see’st me not, in darknessI stand below and apart;Still less canst thou see everInside my darksome heart.My darksome heart doth love thee,It loves thee and it breaks,And breaks, and bleeds, and quivers,But thou see’st not how it aches.
This evening they’ve a party,The house is fill’d with light;By yonder shining windowA shadowy form’s in sight.
Thou see’st me not, in darknessI stand below and apart;Still less canst thou see everInside my darksome heart.
My darksome heart doth love thee,It loves thee and it breaks,And breaks, and bleeds, and quivers,But thou see’st not how it aches.
I would that my woes all their fulnessIn one single word could convey;To the merry winds straight would I give it,Who would merrily bear it away.That word so teeming with sadnessThey would carry, my loved one, to theeThou wouldst hear it at every moment,Wouldst hear it where’er thou mightst be.As soon as thine eyelids at nighttimeAre peacefully closèd in sleep,My word would straightway pursue theeFar into thy visions most deep.
I would that my woes all their fulnessIn one single word could convey;To the merry winds straight would I give it,Who would merrily bear it away.That word so teeming with sadnessThey would carry, my loved one, to theeThou wouldst hear it at every moment,Wouldst hear it where’er thou mightst be.As soon as thine eyelids at nighttimeAre peacefully closèd in sleep,My word would straightway pursue theeFar into thy visions most deep.
I would that my woes all their fulnessIn one single word could convey;To the merry winds straight would I give it,Who would merrily bear it away.
That word so teeming with sadnessThey would carry, my loved one, to theeThou wouldst hear it at every moment,Wouldst hear it where’er thou mightst be.
As soon as thine eyelids at nighttimeAre peacefully closèd in sleep,My word would straightway pursue theeFar into thy visions most deep.
Thou hast pearls, thou hast diamonds also,Hast all that mortals adore;Thine eyes are among the fairest,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?Upon thine eyes so beauteousI’ve written many a scoreOf sweet immortal ballads,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?And with thine eyes so beauteousHast thou tormented me sore,And brought me to utter perdition,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?
Thou hast pearls, thou hast diamonds also,Hast all that mortals adore;Thine eyes are among the fairest,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?Upon thine eyes so beauteousI’ve written many a scoreOf sweet immortal ballads,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?And with thine eyes so beauteousHast thou tormented me sore,And brought me to utter perdition,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?
Thou hast pearls, thou hast diamonds also,Hast all that mortals adore;Thine eyes are among the fairest,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?
Upon thine eyes so beauteousI’ve written many a scoreOf sweet immortal ballads,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?
And with thine eyes so beauteousHast thou tormented me sore,And brought me to utter perdition,—My loved one, what wouldst thou have more?
He who for the first time loveth,Though ’tis hopeless, is a God;But the man who hopeless lovethFor the second time’s—a fool.I, a fool like this, am lovingOnce more, with no love responsive;Sun and moon and stars are laughing,I, too, join the laugh and—die.
He who for the first time loveth,Though ’tis hopeless, is a God;But the man who hopeless lovethFor the second time’s—a fool.I, a fool like this, am lovingOnce more, with no love responsive;Sun and moon and stars are laughing,I, too, join the laugh and—die.
He who for the first time loveth,Though ’tis hopeless, is a God;But the man who hopeless lovethFor the second time’s—a fool.
I, a fool like this, am lovingOnce more, with no love responsive;Sun and moon and stars are laughing,I, too, join the laugh and—die.
Never match’d the timid coldnessOf thy spirit, from the first,With my love’s untutor’d boldness,Which through rocks delights to burst.Thou in love dost love the highway,And I see thee walk through lifeWith thy husband taking thy way,As an honest teeming wife!
Never match’d the timid coldnessOf thy spirit, from the first,With my love’s untutor’d boldness,Which through rocks delights to burst.Thou in love dost love the highway,And I see thee walk through lifeWith thy husband taking thy way,As an honest teeming wife!
Never match’d the timid coldnessOf thy spirit, from the first,With my love’s untutor’d boldness,Which through rocks delights to burst.
Thou in love dost love the highway,And I see thee walk through lifeWith thy husband taking thy way,As an honest teeming wife!
Counsel they gave me, and good instruction,Pour’d on me honours, by way of seductionSaid I had only to wait for a while,And their protection upon me should smile.Spite the protection they bid me hold cherish’d,I before long should of hunger have perish’d,Had I not happen’d a good man to see,Who took an interest kindly in me.Good man indeed! for he gives me my food;Never can I forget conduct so good.Pity I cannot with kisses reply,For the good man is no other than—I!
Counsel they gave me, and good instruction,Pour’d on me honours, by way of seductionSaid I had only to wait for a while,And their protection upon me should smile.Spite the protection they bid me hold cherish’d,I before long should of hunger have perish’d,Had I not happen’d a good man to see,Who took an interest kindly in me.Good man indeed! for he gives me my food;Never can I forget conduct so good.Pity I cannot with kisses reply,For the good man is no other than—I!
Counsel they gave me, and good instruction,Pour’d on me honours, by way of seductionSaid I had only to wait for a while,And their protection upon me should smile.
Spite the protection they bid me hold cherish’d,I before long should of hunger have perish’d,Had I not happen’d a good man to see,Who took an interest kindly in me.
Good man indeed! for he gives me my food;Never can I forget conduct so good.Pity I cannot with kisses reply,For the good man is no other than—I!
This young man, so good and worthy,Cannot be too much respected;Oft he gives me wine and oysters,Gives me liquors well selected.Coat and trousers fit him neatly,His cravat is still more sightly;And so comes he every morningFor my health to ask politely.Of my wide-spread glory speaks he,Of my talents and my graces;Eagerly at my disposalAll his services he places.And in company at evening,With a face as if inspiredHe declaims before the ladiesAll my poems so admired.O it is indeed most pleasantSuch a young man to discoverIn the present day, when surelyAll things good will soon be over.
This young man, so good and worthy,Cannot be too much respected;Oft he gives me wine and oysters,Gives me liquors well selected.Coat and trousers fit him neatly,His cravat is still more sightly;And so comes he every morningFor my health to ask politely.Of my wide-spread glory speaks he,Of my talents and my graces;Eagerly at my disposalAll his services he places.And in company at evening,With a face as if inspiredHe declaims before the ladiesAll my poems so admired.O it is indeed most pleasantSuch a young man to discoverIn the present day, when surelyAll things good will soon be over.
This young man, so good and worthy,Cannot be too much respected;Oft he gives me wine and oysters,Gives me liquors well selected.
Coat and trousers fit him neatly,His cravat is still more sightly;And so comes he every morningFor my health to ask politely.
Of my wide-spread glory speaks he,Of my talents and my graces;Eagerly at my disposalAll his services he places.
And in company at evening,With a face as if inspiredHe declaims before the ladiesAll my poems so admired.
O it is indeed most pleasantSuch a young man to discoverIn the present day, when surelyAll things good will soon be over.
I dreamt that I was Lord of all,And sat in heaven proudly;The angels, ranged around my throne,All praised my verses loudly.And cakes I ate, and comfits too,In value many a florin;And Cardinal I drank the while,And had no need of scorin’.Plagued by ennui, I long’d to beOn earth, with all its evil;And were I not the Lord of all,I’d fain have been the devil.Thou long-legg’d Angel, Gabriel, go,And hasten downward thither,And find my worthy friend Eugene,And bring him to me hither.Within the College seek him not,But o’er a glass of brandy;Seek for him not in Hedwig’s Church,But at Miss Meyer’s so handy.The Angel then spread out his wings,And with his whole soul in itFlew down, and seized my worthy friend,And brought him in a minute.Ay, youth, I am the Lord of all,And rule o’er every nation;I always told thee I should comeTo power and reputation.Each day I work such miraclesAs greatly would delight thee;The town of A—— I’ll happy makeTo-day, and so excite thee.The paving-stones upon the roadShall all be now converted,And, lo, an oyster, fresh and clear,In each shall be inserted.A constant shower of lemon-juiceLike dew, shall serve as pickle,And in the gutters of the streetsThe finest wine shall trickle.How all the A—er’s straight rejoice,And to the banquet hasten!The judges from the gutter drinkAs if it were a basin.And how at this divine repastRejoice the poets needy!Lieutenants lick the streets quite dry,And ensigns poor and greedy.The ensigns and lieutenants areWise in their generation;They always think the present timeThe weightiest in creation.
I dreamt that I was Lord of all,And sat in heaven proudly;The angels, ranged around my throne,All praised my verses loudly.And cakes I ate, and comfits too,In value many a florin;And Cardinal I drank the while,And had no need of scorin’.Plagued by ennui, I long’d to beOn earth, with all its evil;And were I not the Lord of all,I’d fain have been the devil.Thou long-legg’d Angel, Gabriel, go,And hasten downward thither,And find my worthy friend Eugene,And bring him to me hither.Within the College seek him not,But o’er a glass of brandy;Seek for him not in Hedwig’s Church,But at Miss Meyer’s so handy.The Angel then spread out his wings,And with his whole soul in itFlew down, and seized my worthy friend,And brought him in a minute.Ay, youth, I am the Lord of all,And rule o’er every nation;I always told thee I should comeTo power and reputation.Each day I work such miraclesAs greatly would delight thee;The town of A—— I’ll happy makeTo-day, and so excite thee.The paving-stones upon the roadShall all be now converted,And, lo, an oyster, fresh and clear,In each shall be inserted.A constant shower of lemon-juiceLike dew, shall serve as pickle,And in the gutters of the streetsThe finest wine shall trickle.How all the A—er’s straight rejoice,And to the banquet hasten!The judges from the gutter drinkAs if it were a basin.And how at this divine repastRejoice the poets needy!Lieutenants lick the streets quite dry,And ensigns poor and greedy.The ensigns and lieutenants areWise in their generation;They always think the present timeThe weightiest in creation.
I dreamt that I was Lord of all,And sat in heaven proudly;The angels, ranged around my throne,All praised my verses loudly.
And cakes I ate, and comfits too,In value many a florin;And Cardinal I drank the while,And had no need of scorin’.
Plagued by ennui, I long’d to beOn earth, with all its evil;And were I not the Lord of all,I’d fain have been the devil.
Thou long-legg’d Angel, Gabriel, go,And hasten downward thither,And find my worthy friend Eugene,And bring him to me hither.
Within the College seek him not,But o’er a glass of brandy;Seek for him not in Hedwig’s Church,But at Miss Meyer’s so handy.
The Angel then spread out his wings,And with his whole soul in itFlew down, and seized my worthy friend,And brought him in a minute.
Ay, youth, I am the Lord of all,And rule o’er every nation;I always told thee I should comeTo power and reputation.
Each day I work such miraclesAs greatly would delight thee;The town of A—— I’ll happy makeTo-day, and so excite thee.
The paving-stones upon the roadShall all be now converted,And, lo, an oyster, fresh and clear,In each shall be inserted.
A constant shower of lemon-juiceLike dew, shall serve as pickle,And in the gutters of the streetsThe finest wine shall trickle.
How all the A—er’s straight rejoice,And to the banquet hasten!The judges from the gutter drinkAs if it were a basin.
And how at this divine repastRejoice the poets needy!Lieutenants lick the streets quite dry,And ensigns poor and greedy.
The ensigns and lieutenants areWise in their generation;They always think the present timeThe weightiest in creation.
From beauteous lips compell’d to part, and carriedAway from beauteous arms fast clasp’d around me,Yet one more day I gladly would have tarried,When came the post-boy with his steeds, and found me.Child, this is very life, an endless wailing,An endless farewell-taking, endless parting;Is then thy heart to clasp mine unavailing?Could not thine eye retain me, e’en at starting?
From beauteous lips compell’d to part, and carriedAway from beauteous arms fast clasp’d around me,Yet one more day I gladly would have tarried,When came the post-boy with his steeds, and found me.Child, this is very life, an endless wailing,An endless farewell-taking, endless parting;Is then thy heart to clasp mine unavailing?Could not thine eye retain me, e’en at starting?
From beauteous lips compell’d to part, and carriedAway from beauteous arms fast clasp’d around me,Yet one more day I gladly would have tarried,When came the post-boy with his steeds, and found me.
Child, this is very life, an endless wailing,An endless farewell-taking, endless parting;Is then thy heart to clasp mine unavailing?Could not thine eye retain me, e’en at starting?
We travelled alone in the gloomyPost-chaise the whole of the night;Each lean’d on the other’s bosom,And jested with hearts so light.When morning dawn’d upon us,My child, how we did stare,For the blind passenger,[24]Amor,Was sitting between us there!
We travelled alone in the gloomyPost-chaise the whole of the night;Each lean’d on the other’s bosom,And jested with hearts so light.When morning dawn’d upon us,My child, how we did stare,For the blind passenger,[24]Amor,Was sitting between us there!
We travelled alone in the gloomyPost-chaise the whole of the night;Each lean’d on the other’s bosom,And jested with hearts so light.
When morning dawn’d upon us,My child, how we did stare,For the blind passenger,[24]Amor,Was sitting between us there!
Heaven knows where the haughty hussyMay have will’d to pitch her tent;Swearing, with the rain fast falling,All the city through I went.From one tavern to anotherRan I swiftly in the rain,And to every surly waiterDid I turn myself in vain.Then I saw her at a window,Nodding, tittering as well:Could I tell that thou wouldst live in,Maiden, such a grand hotel?
Heaven knows where the haughty hussyMay have will’d to pitch her tent;Swearing, with the rain fast falling,All the city through I went.From one tavern to anotherRan I swiftly in the rain,And to every surly waiterDid I turn myself in vain.Then I saw her at a window,Nodding, tittering as well:Could I tell that thou wouldst live in,Maiden, such a grand hotel?
Heaven knows where the haughty hussyMay have will’d to pitch her tent;Swearing, with the rain fast falling,All the city through I went.
From one tavern to anotherRan I swiftly in the rain,And to every surly waiterDid I turn myself in vain.
Then I saw her at a window,Nodding, tittering as well:Could I tell that thou wouldst live in,Maiden, such a grand hotel?
Like darkling visions the housesAre standing all in a row;Deep hidden in my mantle,In silence I onward go.The high cathedral towerThe hour of twelve doth proclaim:My love, with her charms and kisses,Awaits me with rapturous flame.The moon is my attendant,And kindly gleams in the sky,And when I arrive at her dwelling,I joyfully call up on high:I thank thee, my olden companion,That thou hast thus lighted my way;I now at length can release thee,Light the rest of the world now, I prayAnd find’st thou some mortal enamour’d,In solitude mourning his fate,As me thou of old time didst comfort,Him also O comfort thou straight!
Like darkling visions the housesAre standing all in a row;Deep hidden in my mantle,In silence I onward go.The high cathedral towerThe hour of twelve doth proclaim:My love, with her charms and kisses,Awaits me with rapturous flame.The moon is my attendant,And kindly gleams in the sky,And when I arrive at her dwelling,I joyfully call up on high:I thank thee, my olden companion,That thou hast thus lighted my way;I now at length can release thee,Light the rest of the world now, I prayAnd find’st thou some mortal enamour’d,In solitude mourning his fate,As me thou of old time didst comfort,Him also O comfort thou straight!
Like darkling visions the housesAre standing all in a row;Deep hidden in my mantle,In silence I onward go.
The high cathedral towerThe hour of twelve doth proclaim:My love, with her charms and kisses,Awaits me with rapturous flame.
The moon is my attendant,And kindly gleams in the sky,And when I arrive at her dwelling,I joyfully call up on high:
I thank thee, my olden companion,That thou hast thus lighted my way;I now at length can release thee,Light the rest of the world now, I pray
And find’st thou some mortal enamour’d,In solitude mourning his fate,As me thou of old time didst comfort,Him also O comfort thou straight!
O what falsehood lies in kisses!In mere show what joy’s convey’d!In betrayal, O what bliss is!Sweeter still to be betray’d!Though thou mayst resist me, fairest,Yet I know what thou allowest;I’ll avow whate’er thou swearest,I will swear what thou avowest.
O what falsehood lies in kisses!In mere show what joy’s convey’d!In betrayal, O what bliss is!Sweeter still to be betray’d!Though thou mayst resist me, fairest,Yet I know what thou allowest;I’ll avow whate’er thou swearest,I will swear what thou avowest.
O what falsehood lies in kisses!In mere show what joy’s convey’d!In betrayal, O what bliss is!Sweeter still to be betray’d!
Though thou mayst resist me, fairest,Yet I know what thou allowest;I’ll avow whate’er thou swearest,I will swear what thou avowest.
Upon thy snowy bosomMy head all-softly I lay,And secretly can listenTo what thy heart doth say.The blue hussars are blowing,And riding in at the gate;To-morrow my heart-beloved oneWill surely desert me straight.If thou wilt desert me to-morrow,At least to-day thou art mine,And in thine arms so beauteousWith twofold bliss I’ll recline.
Upon thy snowy bosomMy head all-softly I lay,And secretly can listenTo what thy heart doth say.The blue hussars are blowing,And riding in at the gate;To-morrow my heart-beloved oneWill surely desert me straight.If thou wilt desert me to-morrow,At least to-day thou art mine,And in thine arms so beauteousWith twofold bliss I’ll recline.
Upon thy snowy bosomMy head all-softly I lay,And secretly can listenTo what thy heart doth say.
The blue hussars are blowing,And riding in at the gate;To-morrow my heart-beloved oneWill surely desert me straight.
If thou wilt desert me to-morrow,At least to-day thou art mine,And in thine arms so beauteousWith twofold bliss I’ll recline.
The blue hussars are blowing,And riding out at the gate;I come then, my loved one, and bring theeA nosegay of roses straight.Those were indeed wild doings,Much folk and warlike display!By far too many were quarter’dWithin thy bosom that day.
The blue hussars are blowing,And riding out at the gate;I come then, my loved one, and bring theeA nosegay of roses straight.Those were indeed wild doings,Much folk and warlike display!By far too many were quarter’dWithin thy bosom that day.
The blue hussars are blowing,And riding out at the gate;I come then, my loved one, and bring theeA nosegay of roses straight.
Those were indeed wild doings,Much folk and warlike display!By far too many were quarter’dWithin thy bosom that day.
I in youthful years did languish,Suffer’d many a bitter anguishFrom love’s fiery glow.Wood is now so dear, the fireWill for lack of fuel expire—Ma foi!’tis better so.Think of this, O youthful fair one!Chase away the tears that wear one,And all foolish love’s alarms;If thy life may not have perish’d,O forget thy love once cherish’d—Ma foi!within my arms.
I in youthful years did languish,Suffer’d many a bitter anguishFrom love’s fiery glow.Wood is now so dear, the fireWill for lack of fuel expire—Ma foi!’tis better so.Think of this, O youthful fair one!Chase away the tears that wear one,And all foolish love’s alarms;If thy life may not have perish’d,O forget thy love once cherish’d—Ma foi!within my arms.
I in youthful years did languish,Suffer’d many a bitter anguishFrom love’s fiery glow.Wood is now so dear, the fireWill for lack of fuel expire—Ma foi!’tis better so.
Think of this, O youthful fair one!Chase away the tears that wear one,And all foolish love’s alarms;If thy life may not have perish’d,O forget thy love once cherish’d—Ma foi!within my arms.
The eunuchs controverted,When I raised up my voice;They grumbled and assertedMy singing was not choice.And then they all raised sweetlyTheir voicelets petty and shrill;They sang so finely and neatly,Like crystal sounded their trill.They sang of love’s fierce yearning,Of loving effusions and love,To tears the ladies all turning,With tunes so adapted to move.
The eunuchs controverted,When I raised up my voice;They grumbled and assertedMy singing was not choice.And then they all raised sweetlyTheir voicelets petty and shrill;They sang so finely and neatly,Like crystal sounded their trill.They sang of love’s fierce yearning,Of loving effusions and love,To tears the ladies all turning,With tunes so adapted to move.
The eunuchs controverted,When I raised up my voice;They grumbled and assertedMy singing was not choice.
And then they all raised sweetlyTheir voicelets petty and shrill;They sang so finely and neatly,Like crystal sounded their trill.
They sang of love’s fierce yearning,Of loving effusions and love,To tears the ladies all turning,With tunes so adapted to move.
I left you at first in July at the warmest,In January now I find you once more;In the midst of the heat you then were complaining,And now you are cool’d, and cold to the core.I shall soon leave again, and when next I’m returningNeither warm shall I find you, nor yet quite cold;I shall walk o’er your grave with silent composure,While my own heart within me is wretched and old.
I left you at first in July at the warmest,In January now I find you once more;In the midst of the heat you then were complaining,And now you are cool’d, and cold to the core.I shall soon leave again, and when next I’m returningNeither warm shall I find you, nor yet quite cold;I shall walk o’er your grave with silent composure,While my own heart within me is wretched and old.
I left you at first in July at the warmest,In January now I find you once more;In the midst of the heat you then were complaining,And now you are cool’d, and cold to the core.
I shall soon leave again, and when next I’m returningNeither warm shall I find you, nor yet quite cold;I shall walk o’er your grave with silent composure,While my own heart within me is wretched and old.
Art thou then indeed so hostile,Art thou tow’rds me changed so sadly?I by all means shall lament it,Thou hast treated me so badly.O ungrateful lips, how could yeSpeak with malice cruel-heartedOf the man who ofttimes kiss’d youLovingly, in days departed?
Art thou then indeed so hostile,Art thou tow’rds me changed so sadly?I by all means shall lament it,Thou hast treated me so badly.O ungrateful lips, how could yeSpeak with malice cruel-heartedOf the man who ofttimes kiss’d youLovingly, in days departed?
Art thou then indeed so hostile,Art thou tow’rds me changed so sadly?I by all means shall lament it,Thou hast treated me so badly.
O ungrateful lips, how could yeSpeak with malice cruel-heartedOf the man who ofttimes kiss’d youLovingly, in days departed?
Ah! once more the eyes are on me,Which did greet me once with gladness,And the lips once more address me,Which once sweeten’d life’s long sadness.E’en the voice I hear, whose accentsCharm’d me, as they sweetly falter’d;I alone am not the same one,Having home return’d, all-alter’d.By those arms so white and beauteousLovingly embraced and closely,To her heart I now am clinging,Dull of feeling and morosely.
Ah! once more the eyes are on me,Which did greet me once with gladness,And the lips once more address me,Which once sweeten’d life’s long sadness.E’en the voice I hear, whose accentsCharm’d me, as they sweetly falter’d;I alone am not the same one,Having home return’d, all-alter’d.By those arms so white and beauteousLovingly embraced and closely,To her heart I now am clinging,Dull of feeling and morosely.
Ah! once more the eyes are on me,Which did greet me once with gladness,And the lips once more address me,Which once sweeten’d life’s long sadness.
E’en the voice I hear, whose accentsCharm’d me, as they sweetly falter’d;I alone am not the same one,Having home return’d, all-alter’d.
By those arms so white and beauteousLovingly embraced and closely,To her heart I now am clinging,Dull of feeling and morosely.
On the walls of SalamancaSoft refreshing winds are playing;There, with my belovèd Donna,On a summer’s eve I’m straying.Round the fair one’s slender bodyDoth my arm with rapture linger,And her bosom’s haughty motionFeel I with a loving finger.Yet a whisper fraught with sorrowThrough the linden trees is moving,And, beneath, the dusky millstreamMurmurs sad dreams, disapproving.“Ah, Señora! a foreboding“Tells me, I shall hence be driven“On the walls of Salamanca“Ne’er again to walk ’tis given.”
On the walls of SalamancaSoft refreshing winds are playing;There, with my belovèd Donna,On a summer’s eve I’m straying.Round the fair one’s slender bodyDoth my arm with rapture linger,And her bosom’s haughty motionFeel I with a loving finger.Yet a whisper fraught with sorrowThrough the linden trees is moving,And, beneath, the dusky millstreamMurmurs sad dreams, disapproving.“Ah, Señora! a foreboding“Tells me, I shall hence be driven“On the walls of Salamanca“Ne’er again to walk ’tis given.”
On the walls of SalamancaSoft refreshing winds are playing;There, with my belovèd Donna,On a summer’s eve I’m straying.
Round the fair one’s slender bodyDoth my arm with rapture linger,And her bosom’s haughty motionFeel I with a loving finger.
Yet a whisper fraught with sorrowThrough the linden trees is moving,And, beneath, the dusky millstreamMurmurs sad dreams, disapproving.
“Ah, Señora! a foreboding“Tells me, I shall hence be driven“On the walls of Salamanca“Ne’er again to walk ’tis given.”
Thy voice and thine eye, when we first saw each other,Convinced me thou saw’st me with heart not estranged;And had it not been for thy tyrant mother,I think that we kisses should straight have exchanged.To-morrow again I depart from the city,And on, in my olden course, wander I;At the window my fair one is lurking in pity,And friendly greetings I throw up on high.
Thy voice and thine eye, when we first saw each other,Convinced me thou saw’st me with heart not estranged;And had it not been for thy tyrant mother,I think that we kisses should straight have exchanged.To-morrow again I depart from the city,And on, in my olden course, wander I;At the window my fair one is lurking in pity,And friendly greetings I throw up on high.
Thy voice and thine eye, when we first saw each other,Convinced me thou saw’st me with heart not estranged;And had it not been for thy tyrant mother,I think that we kisses should straight have exchanged.
To-morrow again I depart from the city,And on, in my olden course, wander I;At the window my fair one is lurking in pity,And friendly greetings I throw up on high.
Over the mountains the sun mounts in splendour,Afar sound the bells of the lambs as they stray;My loved one, my lamb, my sun bright and tender,How gladly once more would I see thee to-day!I gaze up on high, with looks fond and loving—My child, fare thee well, I must wander from thee;In vain! for her curtain is still and unmoving—She slumbering lieth and dreameth of me.
Over the mountains the sun mounts in splendour,Afar sound the bells of the lambs as they stray;My loved one, my lamb, my sun bright and tender,How gladly once more would I see thee to-day!I gaze up on high, with looks fond and loving—My child, fare thee well, I must wander from thee;In vain! for her curtain is still and unmoving—She slumbering lieth and dreameth of me.
Over the mountains the sun mounts in splendour,Afar sound the bells of the lambs as they stray;My loved one, my lamb, my sun bright and tender,How gladly once more would I see thee to-day!
I gaze up on high, with looks fond and loving—My child, fare thee well, I must wander from thee;In vain! for her curtain is still and unmoving—She slumbering lieth and dreameth of me.
At Halle, in the marketTwo mighty lions are standing.Thou lion-scorn of Halle,Methinks they’ve tamed thee finely!At Halle, in the market,A mighty giant’s standing.He hath a sword, and moves not,He’s turn’d to stone by terror.At Halle, in the market,A mighty church is standing.The students of each factionHave there a place for praying.
At Halle, in the marketTwo mighty lions are standing.Thou lion-scorn of Halle,Methinks they’ve tamed thee finely!At Halle, in the market,A mighty giant’s standing.He hath a sword, and moves not,He’s turn’d to stone by terror.At Halle, in the market,A mighty church is standing.The students of each factionHave there a place for praying.
At Halle, in the marketTwo mighty lions are standing.Thou lion-scorn of Halle,Methinks they’ve tamed thee finely!
At Halle, in the market,A mighty giant’s standing.He hath a sword, and moves not,He’s turn’d to stone by terror.
At Halle, in the market,A mighty church is standing.The students of each factionHave there a place for praying.
Glimm’ring lies the summer evenOver wood and verdant meadows,And the gold moon, fragrance shedding,Gleameth from the azure heaven.Crickets at the brook with shrillnessChirp; there’s motion in the water,And the wand’rer hears a splashing,And a breathing in the stillness.Yonder at the lone stream sparkling,See, the beauteous elf is bathing;Arm and neck, so white and lovely,Glisten in the moonbeams darkling.
Glimm’ring lies the summer evenOver wood and verdant meadows,And the gold moon, fragrance shedding,Gleameth from the azure heaven.Crickets at the brook with shrillnessChirp; there’s motion in the water,And the wand’rer hears a splashing,And a breathing in the stillness.Yonder at the lone stream sparkling,See, the beauteous elf is bathing;Arm and neck, so white and lovely,Glisten in the moonbeams darkling.
Glimm’ring lies the summer evenOver wood and verdant meadows,And the gold moon, fragrance shedding,Gleameth from the azure heaven.
Crickets at the brook with shrillnessChirp; there’s motion in the water,And the wand’rer hears a splashing,And a breathing in the stillness.
Yonder at the lone stream sparkling,See, the beauteous elf is bathing;Arm and neck, so white and lovely,Glisten in the moonbeams darkling.
On the strange roads night is lying,Heart is sick and limbs are weary;But the moonbeams, softly vying,Shed their light like blessings cheery.Ah, sweet moon! thy radiant splendourScares away each terror nightly;All my woes dissolve, and tenderDew o’erflows my eyelids lightly.
On the strange roads night is lying,Heart is sick and limbs are weary;But the moonbeams, softly vying,Shed their light like blessings cheery.Ah, sweet moon! thy radiant splendourScares away each terror nightly;All my woes dissolve, and tenderDew o’erflows my eyelids lightly.
On the strange roads night is lying,Heart is sick and limbs are weary;But the moonbeams, softly vying,Shed their light like blessings cheery.
Ah, sweet moon! thy radiant splendourScares away each terror nightly;All my woes dissolve, and tenderDew o’erflows my eyelids lightly.
Death nothing is but cooling night,And life is nought but sultry day;Darkness draws nigh, I slumberWearied by day’s bright light.Over my bed ariseth a tree,There sings the youthful nightingale;She sings of love exulting,In dreams ’tis heard by me.
Death nothing is but cooling night,And life is nought but sultry day;Darkness draws nigh, I slumberWearied by day’s bright light.Over my bed ariseth a tree,There sings the youthful nightingale;She sings of love exulting,In dreams ’tis heard by me.
Death nothing is but cooling night,And life is nought but sultry day;Darkness draws nigh, I slumberWearied by day’s bright light.
Over my bed ariseth a tree,There sings the youthful nightingale;She sings of love exulting,In dreams ’tis heard by me.
“Say, where is thy beauteous mistress,“Whom thou sangest in the hour“When thy heart was pierced so strangely“By the flames of magic power?”All those flames are now extinguish’d,And my heart is cold and weary,And this book’s the urn that holdethMy love’s ashes sad and dreary.
“Say, where is thy beauteous mistress,“Whom thou sangest in the hour“When thy heart was pierced so strangely“By the flames of magic power?”All those flames are now extinguish’d,And my heart is cold and weary,And this book’s the urn that holdethMy love’s ashes sad and dreary.
“Say, where is thy beauteous mistress,“Whom thou sangest in the hour“When thy heart was pierced so strangely“By the flames of magic power?”
All those flames are now extinguish’d,And my heart is cold and weary,And this book’s the urn that holdethMy love’s ashes sad and dreary.
Full long have I my head tormentedWith ceaseless thinking, day and night;And yet thy darling eyes compel meTo love thee, in my own despite.Now stand I, where thine eyes are gleaming,Charm’d by their sweet expressive light;That I should love again thus deeplyI scarcely can believe aright.
Full long have I my head tormentedWith ceaseless thinking, day and night;And yet thy darling eyes compel meTo love thee, in my own despite.Now stand I, where thine eyes are gleaming,Charm’d by their sweet expressive light;That I should love again thus deeplyI scarcely can believe aright.
Full long have I my head tormentedWith ceaseless thinking, day and night;And yet thy darling eyes compel meTo love thee, in my own despite.
Now stand I, where thine eyes are gleaming,Charm’d by their sweet expressive light;That I should love again thus deeplyI scarcely can believe aright.
When thou hast become my wedded wifeThy joy shall know no measure;Thou’lt live in happiness all thy life,In uninterrupted pleasure.And I will very patient beE’en ’neath thy reviling and curses;But we must part most certainlyIf thou abusest my verses.
When thou hast become my wedded wifeThy joy shall know no measure;Thou’lt live in happiness all thy life,In uninterrupted pleasure.And I will very patient beE’en ’neath thy reviling and curses;But we must part most certainlyIf thou abusest my verses.
When thou hast become my wedded wifeThy joy shall know no measure;Thou’lt live in happiness all thy life,In uninterrupted pleasure.
And I will very patient beE’en ’neath thy reviling and curses;But we must part most certainlyIf thou abusest my verses.
Little by thee comprehended,Little knew I thee, good brother;When we in the mud descendedSoon we understood each other.
Little by thee comprehended,Little knew I thee, good brother;When we in the mud descendedSoon we understood each other.
Little by thee comprehended,Little knew I thee, good brother;When we in the mud descendedSoon we understood each other.
Near me dwelleth Don Henriques,As the “handsome” known and fêted;Our apartments are adjoining,By a thin wall separated.Salamanca’s dames are blushingAs he in the streets is walkingRattling spurs, mustachios twirling,With his dogs behind him stalking.But at evening’s silent hour heAll alone at home is sitting,His guitar his fingers twanging,Sweet dreams through his fancy flitting.On the chords with vigour plays he,His wild phantasies beginning—O it drives me mad to hear himKeeping up his wretched dinning.
Near me dwelleth Don Henriques,As the “handsome” known and fêted;Our apartments are adjoining,By a thin wall separated.Salamanca’s dames are blushingAs he in the streets is walkingRattling spurs, mustachios twirling,With his dogs behind him stalking.But at evening’s silent hour heAll alone at home is sitting,His guitar his fingers twanging,Sweet dreams through his fancy flitting.On the chords with vigour plays he,His wild phantasies beginning—O it drives me mad to hear himKeeping up his wretched dinning.
Near me dwelleth Don Henriques,As the “handsome” known and fêted;Our apartments are adjoining,By a thin wall separated.
Salamanca’s dames are blushingAs he in the streets is walkingRattling spurs, mustachios twirling,With his dogs behind him stalking.
But at evening’s silent hour heAll alone at home is sitting,His guitar his fingers twanging,Sweet dreams through his fancy flitting.
On the chords with vigour plays he,His wild phantasies beginning—O it drives me mad to hear himKeeping up his wretched dinning.
In black coats and silken stockings,White and courtly frills they hide them,Gentle speeches and embraces—Had they only hearts inside them!Hearts within the breast, and love, too,In the heart, yea, love all-burning;Ah! I’m sick of their false pratingOf love’s sorrows and love’s yearning.I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the peaceful huts are standing,Where the breezes free are blowing,And the bosom free’s expanding.I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the dusky firs are springing,And the haughty clouds are roaming,Brooks are murmuring, birds are singing.Fare ye well, ye polish’d chambers,Polish’d lords and dames beguiling;To the mountains now ascendingI’ll look down upon you, smiling.
In black coats and silken stockings,White and courtly frills they hide them,Gentle speeches and embraces—Had they only hearts inside them!Hearts within the breast, and love, too,In the heart, yea, love all-burning;Ah! I’m sick of their false pratingOf love’s sorrows and love’s yearning.I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the peaceful huts are standing,Where the breezes free are blowing,And the bosom free’s expanding.I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the dusky firs are springing,And the haughty clouds are roaming,Brooks are murmuring, birds are singing.Fare ye well, ye polish’d chambers,Polish’d lords and dames beguiling;To the mountains now ascendingI’ll look down upon you, smiling.
In black coats and silken stockings,White and courtly frills they hide them,Gentle speeches and embraces—Had they only hearts inside them!
Hearts within the breast, and love, too,In the heart, yea, love all-burning;Ah! I’m sick of their false pratingOf love’s sorrows and love’s yearning.
I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the peaceful huts are standing,Where the breezes free are blowing,And the bosom free’s expanding.
I’ll ascend the distant mountainsWhere the dusky firs are springing,And the haughty clouds are roaming,Brooks are murmuring, birds are singing.
Fare ye well, ye polish’d chambers,Polish’d lords and dames beguiling;To the mountains now ascendingI’ll look down upon you, smiling.