24 THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE.-THE CHILD ASLEEP. Thus sang they all together in one voice, With whatso in that Psalm is after written. Then made he sign of holy rood upon them, Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore, And he departed swiftly as he came. LONGING already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, Crossing the level country, slowly, slowly, A gently-breathing air, that no mutation Had in itself, smote me upon the forehead, No heavier blow, than of a pleasant breeze, Whereat the tremulous branches readily Did all of them bow downward towards that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Moun tain; Yet not from their upright direction bent So that the little birds upon their tops Through the pine forests on the shore of When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. Into the ancient wood so far, that I Could see no more the place where I had entered. And lo! my further course cut off a river, FROM DANTE. BEATRICE. PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI. EVEN as the Blessed, at the final summons, A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis, Oft have I seen, at the approach of day, The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, And the other heaven with light serene adorned, And the sun's face uprising, overshadowed, So that, by temperate influence of vapors, The eye sustained his aspect for long while; Even as the snow, among the living rafters Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian winds, Before the song of those who chime forever After the chiming of the eternal spheres; But, when I heard in those sweet melodies Compassion for me, more than had they said, "O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus consume him?" The ice, that was about my heart congealed, Confusion and dismay, together mingled, Forced such a feeble "Yes!" out of my mouth, To understand it one had need of sight. Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 't is discharged, Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark; So I gave way beneath this heavy burden, Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs, And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage. SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS. XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring! in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart sad, And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay. And they shrink away, and they flee in fear, Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old, And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky Thou tearest away the mournful shroud, THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed! Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast. Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend; "T is sweet to watch for thee, alone for thee! His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm. Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow, Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? 25 Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright! Even at the price of thine, give me repose! Sweet error! he but slept, I breathe again; Thy murky sky! Then champions to thine arms were sent; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, THE HAPPIEST LAND. FROM THE GERMAN. THERE sat one day in quiet, And drank the precious wine. The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Then sat they all so calm and still, But, when the maid departed, A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "Long live the Swabian land! "The greatest kingdom upon earth "Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing, Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land! There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!" A bold Bohemian cries; If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies. There the tailor blows the flute, And the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle, Over mountain gorge and bourn." An i then the landlord's daughter Up to heaven raised her hand, And said: 46 Ye may no more contend,— There lies the happiest land!" THE WAVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave? Whither, with so much haste, As it a thief wert thou?" "I am the Wave of Life, Stained with my margin's dust; From the struggle and the strife Of the narrow stream I fly To the Sea's immensity, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time." THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF STOCKMANN. How they so softly rest, All they the holy ones, Now doth my soul draw near! And they no longer weep, Calls them, they slumber! THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER. "THE rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; "The clouds are passing far and high, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?" "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land. "Full and swollen is every sail; I see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale, And it will not let me stand still. "And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all.”. "I need not and seek not company, "High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, "Who neither may rest, nor listen may, I dart away, in the bright blue day, "Thus do I sing my weary song, WHITHER? FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLER. I HEARD a brooklet gushing From its rocky fountain near, Down into the valley rushing, So fresh and wondrous clear. I know not what came o'er me, Is this the way I was going? What do I say of a murmur? That can no murmur be; "T is the water-nymphs, that are singing Their roundelays under me. Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur, And wander merrily near; The wheels of a mill are going In every brooklet clear. SONG OF THE BELL FROM THE GERMAN. BELL! thou soundest merrily, When the bridal party To the church doth hie! Bell! thou soundest solemnly, When, on Sabbath morning, Fields deserted lie! Bell! thou soundest merrily; Parting hath gone by! Say! how canst thou mourn? Thou art but metal dull! Thou dost feel them all! God hath wonders many, Which we cannot fathom, Placed within thy form! When the heart is sinking, Thou alone canst raise it, Trembling in the storm! 27 BEWARE! FROM THE GERMAN, I KNOW a maiden fair to see, She can both false and friendly be, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! She has two eyes, so soft and brown, She gives a side-glance and looks down, Trust her not, And she has hair of a golden hue, And what she says, it is not true, Trust her not, THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. "HAST thou seen that lordly castle, "And fain it would stoop downward "The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime? Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, The harp and the minstrel's rhyme? "The winds and the waves of ocean, They rested quietly, But I heard on the gale a sound of wail, To the barrier of the fight Rode at last a sable Knight. SONG OF THE SILENT LAND. FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS. INTO the Silent Land! Ah! who shall lead us thither? Thither, O thither, Into the Silent Land? Into the Silent Land! To you, ye boundless regions Of all perfection! Tender morning visions Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band! Who in Life's battle firm doth stand, Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms "Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, O Land! O Land! say!" "Should I speak it here, Ye would stand aghast with fear; I am a Prince of mighty sway!" When he rode into the lists, The arch of heaven grew black with mists, And the castle 'gan to rock; At the first blow, Fell the youth from saddle-bow, Pipe and viol call the dances, Torch-light through the high halls glances; Waves a mighty shadow in; With manner bland Doth ask the maiden's hand, Doth with her the dance begin. Danced in sable iron sark, Flowerets, faded, to the ground. To the sumptuous banquet came "Twixt son and daughter all distraught, With mournful mind The ancient King reclined, Gazed at them in silent thought. Pale the children both did look, "Golden wine will make you whole!" The children drank, Gave many a courteous thank : "O, that draught was very cool!" For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand To the land of the great Departed, Into the Silent Land! |