Birds of gay plumageSport in the grove, Heavenly numbersSinging above.
Under the verdure'sVigorous bloom, Bees, softly bumming,Juices consume.
Gentle disturbanceQuivers in air, Sleep-causing fragrance,Motion so fair.
Soon with more powerRises the breeze, Then in a momentDies in the trees.
But to the bosomComes it again.
Aid me, ye Muses,Bliss to sustain!
Say what has happen'dSince yester e'en?
Oh, ye fair sisters,Her I have seen!
1802.
AUTUMN FEELINGS.
FLOURISH greener, as ye clamber, Oh ye leaves, to seek my chamber,Up the trellis'd vine on high!
May ye swell, twin-berries tender, Juicier far,--and with more splendourRipen, and more speedily!
O'er ye broods the sun at even As he sinks to rest, and heavenSoftly breathes into your ear All its fertilising fullness, While the moon's refreshing coolness,Magic-laden, hovers near;And, alas! ye're watered everBy a stream of tears that rill From mine eyes--tears ceasing never,Tears of love that nought can still!
1775.
RESTLESS LOVE.
THROUGH rain, through snow, Through tempest go!
'Mongst streaming caves, O'er misty waves, On, on! still on!
Peace, rest have flown!
Sooner through sadnessI'd wish to be slain, Than all the gladnessOf life to sustain All the fond yearningThat heart feels for heart, Only seems burningTo make them both smart.
How shall I fly?
Forestwards hie?
Vain were all strife!
Bright crown of life.
Turbulent bliss,--Love, thou art this!
1789.
THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT.
ON yonder lofty mountainA thousand times I stand, And on my staff reclining,Look down on the smiling land.
My grazing flocks then I follow,My dog protecting them well;I find myself in the valley,But how, I scarcely can tell.
The whole of the meadow is cover'dWith flowers of beauty rare;I pluck them, but pluck them unknowingTo whom the offering to bear.
In rain and storm and tempest,I tarry beneath the tree, But closed remaineth yon portal;'Tis all but a vision to me.
High over yonder dwelling,There rises a rainbow gay;But she from home hath departedAnd wander'd far, far away.
Yes, far away bath she wander'd,Perchance e'en over the sea;Move onward, ye sheep, then, move onward!
Full sad the shepherd must be.
1803.
COMFORT IN TEARS.
How happens it that thou art sad,While happy all appear?
Thine eye proclaims too well that thouHast wept full many a tear.
"If I have wept in solitude,None other shares my grief, And tears to me sweet balsam are,And give my heart relief."Thy happy friends invite thee now,--Oh come, then, to our breast!
And let the loss thou hast sustain'dBe there to us confess'd!
"Ye shout, torment me, knowing notWhat 'tis afflicteth me;Ah no! I have sustained no loss,Whate'er may wanting be."If so it is, arise in haste!
Thou'rt young and full of life.
At years like thine, man's blest with strength.
And courage for the strife.
"Ah no! in vain 'twould be to strive,The thing I seek is far;It dwells as high, it gleams as fairAs yonder glitt'ring star."The stars we never long to clasp,We revel in their light, And with enchantment upward gaze,Each clear and radiant night.
"And I with rapture upward gaze,On many a blissful day;Then let me pass the night in tears,Till tears are wip'd away!
1803.
NIGHT SONG,WHEN
on thy pillow lying,Half listen, I implore, And at my lute's soft sighing,Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
For at my lute's soft sighingThe stars their blessings pour On feelings never-dying;Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
Those feelings never-dyingMy spirit aid to soar From earthly conflicts trying;Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
From earthly conflicts tryingThou driv'st me to this shore;Through thee I'm thither flying,--Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
Through thee I'm hither flying,Thou wilt not list before In slumbers thou art lying:
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
1803.
LONGING.
WHAT pulls at my heart so?
What tells me to roam?
What drags me and lures meFrom chamber and home?
How round the cliffs gatherThe clouds high in air!
I fain would go thither,I fain would be there!
The sociable flightOf the ravens comes back;I mingle amongst them,And follow their track.
Round wall and round mountainTogether we fly;She tarries below there,I after her spy.
Then onward she wanders,My flight I wing soon To the wood fill'd with bushes,A bird of sweet tune.
She tarries and hearkens,And smiling, thinks she:
"How sweetly he's singing!
He's singing to me!"
The heights are illum'dBy the fast setting sun;The pensive fair maidenLooks thoughtfully on;She roams by the streamlet,O'er meadows she goes, And darker and darkerThe pathway fast grows.
I rise on a sudden,A glimmering star;"What glitters above me,So near and so far?"And when thou with wonderHast gazed on the light, I fall down before thee,Entranced by thy sight!
1803.
TO MIGNON.
OVER vale and torrent far Rolls along the sun's bright car.
Ah! he wakens in his courseMine, as thy deep-seated smartIn the heart.
Ev'ry morning with new force.
Scarce avails night aught to me;
E'en the visions that I see Come but in a mournful guise;And I feel this silent smartIn my heart With creative pow'r arise.
During many a beauteous year I have seen ships 'neath me steer, As they seek the shelt'ring bay;But, alas, each lasting smartIn my heart Floats not with the stream away.
I must wear a gala dress, Long stored up within my press, For to-day to feasts is given;None know with what bitter smartIs my heart Fearfully and madly riven.
Secretly I weep each tear, Yet can cheerful e'en appear, With a face of healthy red;For if deadly were this silent smartIn my heart, Ah, I then had long been dead!
THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE.
THERE stands on yonder high mountainA castle built of yore, Where once lurked horse and horsemanIn rear of gate and of door.
Now door and gate are in ashes,And all around is so still;And over the fallen ruinsI clamber just as I will.
Below once lay a cellar,With costly wines well stor'd;No more the glad maid with her pitcherDescends there to draw from the hoard.
