Chapter 2

SONNETS TO MY MOTHER, B. HEINE, _née_ VON GELDERN.

I.

I have been wont to bear my forehead high-- My stubborn temper yields with no good grace. The king himself might look me in the face, And yet I would not downward cast mine eye. But I confess, dear mother, openly, However proud my haughty spirit swell, When I within thy blessed presence dwell, Oft am I smit with shy humility. Is it thy soul, with secret influence, Thy lofty soul piercing all shows of sense, Which soareth, heaven-born, to heaven again? Or springs it from sad memories that tell How many a time I caused thy dear heart pain, Thy gentle heart, that loveth me so well!

II.

In fond delusion once I left thy side; Unto the wide world's end I fain would fare, To see if I might find Love anywhere, And lovingly embrace Love as a bride. Love sought I in all paths, at every gate; Oft and again outstretching suppliant palms, I begged in vain of Love the slightest alms, But the world laughed and offered me cold hate. Forever I aspired towards Love, forever Towards Love, and ne'ertheless I found Love never,-- And sick at heart, homeward my steps did move. And lo! thou comest forth to welcome me; And that which in thy swimming eyes I see, That is the precious, the long-looked-for Love.

THE SPHINX.

This is the old enchanted wood, Sweet lime trees scent the wind; The glamor of the moon has cast A spell upon my mind.

Onward I walk, and as I walk-- Hark to that high, soft strain! That is the nightingale, she sings, Of love and of love's pain.

She sings of love and of love's pain, Of laughter and of tears. So plaintive her carol, so joyous her sobs, I dream of forgotten years.

Onward I walk, and as I walk, There stands before mine eyes A castle proud on an open lawn, Whose gables high uprise.

With casements closed, and everywhere Sad silence in court and halls, It seemed as though mute death abode Within those barren walls.

Before the doorway crouched a sphinx, Half horror and half grace; With a lion's body, a lion's claws, And a woman's breast and face.

A woman fair! The marble glance Spake wild desire and guile. The silent lips were proudly curled In a confident, glad smile.

The nightingale, she sang so sweet, I yielded to her tone. I touched, I kissed the lovely face, And lo, I was undone!

The marble image stirred with life, The stone began to move; She drank my fiery kisses' glow With panting thirsty love.

She well nigh drank my breath away; And, lustful still for more, Embraced me, and my shrinking flesh With lion claws she tore.

Oh, rapturous martyrdom! ravishing pain! Oh, infinite anguish and bliss! With her horrible talons she wounded me, While she thrilled my soul with a kiss.

The nightingale sang: "Oh beautiful sphinx. Oh love! what meaneth this? That thou minglest still the pangs of death With thy most peculiar bliss?

Thou beautiful Sphinx, oh solve for me This riddle of joy and tears! I have pondered it over again and again, How many thousand years!"

DONNA CLARA.

In the evening through her garden Wanders the Alcalde's daughter; Festal sounds of drum and trumpet Ring out hither from the castle.

"I am weary of the dances, Honeyed words of adulation From the knights who still compare me To the sun,--with dainty phrases.

"Yes, of all things I am weary, Since I first beheld by moonlight, Him my cavalier, whose zither Nightly draws me to my casement.

"As he stands, so slim and daring, With his flaming eyes that sparkle From his nobly-pallid features, Truly he St. George resembles."

Thus went Donna Clara dreaming, On the ground her eyes were fastened, When she raised them, lo! before her Stood the handsome, knightly stranger.

Pressing hands and whispering passion, These twain wander in the moonlight. Gently doth the breeze caress them, The enchanted roses greet them.

The enchanted roses greet them, And they glow like love's own heralds; "Tell me, tell me, my belovèd, Wherefore, all at once thou blushest."

"Gnats were stinging me, my darling, And I hate these gnats in summer, E'en as though they were a rabble Of vile Jews with long, hooked noses."

"Heed not gnats nor Jews, belovèd," Spake the knight with fond endearments. From the almond-tree dropped downward Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms.

Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms Shed around them fragrant odors. "Tell me, tell me, my belovèd, Looks thy heart on me with favor?"

"Yes, I love thee, oh my darling, And I swear it by our Savior, Whom the accursèd Jews did murder Long ago with wicked malice."

"Heed thou neither Jews nor Savior," Spake the knight with fond endearments; Far-off waved as in a vision Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight.

Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight Seemed to watch the stars above them. "Tell me, tell me, my belovèd, Didst thou not erewhile swear falsely?"

"Naught is false in me, my darling, E'en as in my bosom floweth Not a drop of blood that's Moorish, Neither of foul Jewish current."

"Heed not Moors nor Jews, belovèd," Spake the knight with fond endearments. Then towards a grove of myrtles Leads he the Alcalde's daughter.

And with love's slight, subtle meshes, He hath trapped her and entangled; Brief their words, but long their kisses, For their hearts are overflowing.

What a melting bridal carol, Sings the nightingale, the pure one! How the fire-flies in the grasses Trip their sparkling, torch-light dances!

In the grove the silence deepens; Naught is heard save furtive rustling Of the swaying myrtle branches, And the breathing of the flowers.

But the sound of drum and trumpet Burst forth sudden from the castle. Rudely they awaken Clara, Pillowed on her lover's bosom.

"Hark, they summon me, my darling. But before I go, oh tell me, Tell me what thy precious name is, Which so closely thou hast hidden."

And the knight, with gentle laughter, Kissed the fingers of his donna, Kissed her lips and kissed her forehead, And at last these words he uttered:

"I, Señora, your belovèd, Am the son of the respected Worthy, erudite Grand Rabbi, Israel of Saragossa!"

DON RAMIRO.

"Donna Clara! Donna Clara! Hotly-loved through years of passion! Thou hast wrought me mine undoing, And hast wrought it without mercy!

"Donna Clara! Donna Clara! Still the gift of life is pleasant. But beneath the earth 'tis frightful, In the grave so cold and darksome.

"Donna Clara! Laugh, be merry, For to-morrow shall Fernando Greet thee at the nuptial altar. Wilt thou bid me to the wedding?"

"Don Ramiro! Don Ramiro! Very bitter sounds thy language, Bitterer than the stars' decrees are, Which bemock my heart's desire.

"Don Ramiro! Don Ramiro! Cast aside thy gloomy temper. In the world are many maidens, But us twain the Lord hath parted.

"Don Ramiro, thou who bravely Many and many a man hast conquered, Conquer now thyself,--to-morrow Come and greet me at my wedding."

"Donna Clara! Donna Clara! Yes, I swear it. I am coming. I will dance with thee the measure. Now good-night! I come to-morrow."

"So good-night!" The casement rattled, Sighing neath it, stood Ramiro. Long he stood a stony statue, Then amidst the darkness vanished.

After long and weary struggling, Night must yield unto the daylight. Like a many-colored garden, Lies the city of Toledo.

Palaces and stately fabrics Shimmer in the morning sunshine. And the lofty domes of churches Glitter as with gold incrusted.

Humming like a swarm of insects, Ring the bells their festal carol. With sweet tones the sacred anthem From each house of God ascendeth.

But behold, behold! beyond there, Yonder from the market-chapel, With a billowing and a swaying, Streams the motley throng of people.

Gallant knights and noble ladies, In their holiday apparel; While the pealing bells ring clearly, And the deep-voiced organ murmurs.

But a reverential passage In the people's midst is opened, For the richly-clad young couple, Donna Clara, Don Fernando.

To the bridegroom's palace-threshold, Wind the waving throngs of people; There the wedding feast beginneth, Pompous in the olden fashion.

Knightly games and open table, Interspersed with joyous laughter, Quickly flying, speed the hours, Till the night again hath fallen.

And the wedding-guests assemble For the dance within the palace, And their many-colored raiment Glitters in the light of tapers.

Seated on a lofty dais, Side by side, are bride and bridegroom, Donna Clara, Don Fernando,-- And they murmur sweet love-whispers.

And within the hall wave brightly All the gay-decked streams of dancers; And the rolling drums are beaten. Shrill the clamorous trumpet soundeth.

"Wherefore, wherefore, beauteous lady, Are thy lovely glances fastened Yonder in the hall's far corner?" In amazement asked Fernando.

"See'st thou not, oh Don Fernando, Yonder man in sable mantle?" And the knight spake, kindly smiling, "Why, 'tis nothing but a shadow."

But the shadow drew anear them, 'Twas a man in sable mantle. Clara knows at once Ramiro, And she greets him, blushing crimson.

And the dance begins already, Gaily whirl around the dancers In the waltz's reckless circles, Till the firm floor creaks and trembles.

"Yes, with pleasure, Don Ramiro, I will dance with thee the measure; But in such a night-black mantle Thou shouldst never have come hither."

With fixed, piercing eyes, Ramiro Gazes on the lovely lady. Then embracing her, speaks strangely,-- "At thy bidding I came hither."

In the wild whirl of the measure, Press and turn the dancing couple, And the rolling drums are beaten, Shrill the clamorous trumpet soundeth.

"White as driven snow thy cheeks are!" Whispers Clara, inly trembling. "At thy bidding I came hither," Hollow ring Ramiro's accents.

In the hall the tapers flicker, With the eddying stream of dancers, And the rolling drums are beaten, Shrill the clamorous trumpet soundeth.

"Cold as ice I feel thy fingers," Whispers Clara, thrilled with terror. "At thy bidding I came hither." And they rush on in the vortex.

"Leave me, leave me, Don Ramiro! Like a corpse's scent thy breath is." Once again the gloomy sentence, "At thy bidding I came hither."

And the firm floor glows and rustles, Merry sound the horns and fiddles; Like a woof of strange enchantment, All within the hall is whirling.

"Leave me, leave me, Don Ramiro!" All is waving and revolving. Don Ramiro still repeateth, "At thy bidding I came hither."

"In the name of God, begone then!" Clara shrieked, with steadfast accent. And the word was scarcely spoken, When Ramiro had evanished.

Clara stiffens! deathly pallid, Numb with cold, with night encompassed. In a swoon the lovely creature To the shadowy realm is wafted.

But the misty slumber passes, And at last she lifts her eyelids. Then again from sheer amazement Her fair eyes at once she closes.

For she sees she hath not risen, Since the dance's first beginning. Still she sits beside the bridegroom, And he speaks with anxious question.

"Say, why waxed thy cheek so pallid? Wherefore filled thine eyes with shadows?" "And Ramiro?" stammers Clara, And her tongue is glued with horror.

But with deep and serious furrows Is the bridegroom's forehead wrinkled. "Lady, ask not bloody tidings-- Don Ramiro died this morning."

TANNHÄUSER.

A LEGEND.

I.

Good Christians all, be not entrapped In Satan's cunning snare. I sing the lay of Tannhäuser, To bid your souls beware.

Brave Tannhäuser, a noble knight, Would love and pleasure win. These lured him to the Venusberg. Seven years he bode therein.

"Dame Venus, loveliest of dames, Farewell, my life, my bride. Oh give me leave to part from thee, No longer may I bide."

"My noble knight, my Tannhäuser, Thou'st kissed me not to-day. Come, kiss me quick, and tell me now, What lack'st thou here, I pray?

"Have I not poured the sweetest wine Daily for thee, my spouse? And have I not with roses, dear, Each day enwreathed thy brows?"

"Dame Venus, loveliest of dames, My soul is sick, I swear, Of kisses, roses and sweet wine, And craveth bitter fare.

"We have laughed and jested far too much, And I yearn for tears this morn. Would that my head no rose-wreath wore, But a crown of sharpest thorn."

"My noble knight, my Tannhäuser, To vex me thou art fain. Hast thou not sworn a thousand times To leave me never again?

"Come! to my chamber let us go; Our love shall be secret there. And thy gloomy thoughts shall vanish at sight Of my lily-white body fair."

"Dame Venus, loveliest of dames, Immortal thy charms remain. As many have loved thee ere to-day, So many shall love again.

"But when I think of the heroes and gods, Who feasted long ago, Upon thy lily-white body fair, Then sad at heart I grow.

Thy lily-white body filleth me With loathing, for I see How many more in years to come Shall enjoy thee, after me."

"My noble knight, my Tannhäuser, Such words thou should'st not say. Far liefer had I thou dealt'st me a blow, As often ere this day.

"Far liefer had I thou should'st strike me low, Than such an insult speak; Cold, thankless Christian that thou art, Thus the pride of my heart to break.

"Because I have loved thee far too well, To hear such words is my fate, Farewell! I give thee free leave to go. Myself, I open the gate!"

II.

In Rome, in Rome, in the holy town, To the music of chimes and of song, A stately procession moves,--the Pope Strides in the midst of the throng.

This is the pious Pope Urbain; The triple crown he wears, The crimson robe,--and many a lord The train of his garment bears.

"Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain, I have a tale to tell; I stir not hence, till thou shrivest me, And savest me from hell."

The people stand in a circle near, And the priestly anthems cease; Who is the pilgrim wan and wild, Who falleth upon his knees?

"Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain, Who canst bind and loose as well, Now save me from the evil one, And from the pains of hell.

"I am the noble Tannhäuser, Who love and lust would win, These lured me to the Venusberg, Seven years I bode therein.

"Dame Venus is a beauteous dame, Her charms have a subtle glow. Like sunshine with fragrance of flowers blent Is her voice so soft and low.

"As the butterfly flutters anigh a flower, From its delicate chalice sips, In such wise ever fluttered my soul Anigh to her rosy lips.

"Her rich black ringlets floating loose, Her noble face enwreath. When once her large eyes rest on thee, Thou canst not stir nor breathe.

"When once her large eyes rest on thee, With chains thou art bounden fast; 'Twas only in sorest need I chanced To flee from her hill at last.

"From her hill at last I have escaped, But through all the livelong day, Those beautiful eyes still follow me. 'Come back!' they seem to say.

"A lifeless ghost all day I pine, But at night I dream of my bride, And then my spirit awakes in me. She laughs and sits by my side.

"How hearty, how happy, how reckless her laugh! How the pearly white teeth outpeep! Ah! when I remember that laugh of hers, Then sudden tears must I weep.

"I love her, I love her with all my might, And nothing my love can stay, 'Tis like to a rushing cataract, Whose force no man can sway.

"For it dashes on from cliff to cliff, And roareth and foameth still. Though it break its neck a thousand times, Its course it would yet fulfill.

"Were all of the boundless heavens mine, I would give them all to her, I would give her the sun, I would give her the moon And each star in its shining sphere.

"I love her, I love her with all my might, With a flame that devoureth me. Can these be already the fires of hell, That shall glow eternally?

"Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain, Who canst bind and loose as well, Now save me from the evil one, And from the pains of hell!"

Sadly the Pope upraised his hand, And sadly began to speak: "Tannhäuser, most wretched of all men, This spell thou canst not break.

"The devil called Venus is the worst Amongst all we name as such. And nevermore canst thou be redeemed From the beautiful witch's clutch.

"Thou with thy spirit must atone For the joys thou hast loved so well; Accursed art thou! thou are condemned Unto everlasting hell!"

III.

So quickly fared Sir Tannhäuser,-- His feet were bleeding and torn-- Back to the Venusberg he came, Ere the earliest streak of morn.

Dame Venus, awakened from her sleep, From her bed upsprang in haste. Already she hath with her arms so white Her darling spouse embraced.

Forth from her nose outstreams the blood, The tears from her eyelids start; She moistens the face of her darling spouse With the tears and blood of her heart.

The knight lay down upon her bed, And not a word he spake; Dame Venus to the kitchen went A bowl of broth to make.

She gave him broth, she gave him bread, She bathed his wounded feet; She combed for him his matted hair, And laughed so low and sweet:

"My noble knight, my Tannhäuser, Long hast thou left my side. Now tell me in what foreign lands So long thou couldst abide."

"Dame Venus, loveliest of dames, I tarried far from home. In Rome I had some business, dear, But quickly back have come.

"On seven hills great Rome is built, The Tiber flows to the sea. And while in Rome I saw the Pope; He sent his love to thee.

"Through Florence led my journey home, Through Milan, too, I passed; And glad at heart, through Switzerland I clambered back at last.

"But as I went across the Alps, The snow began to fall; Below, the blue lakes smiled on me; I heard the eagles call.

"When I upon St. Gothard stood, I heard the Germans snore; For softly slumbered there below Some thirty kings and more.

"To Frankfort I on _Schobbas_ came, Where dumplings were my food. They have the best religion there: Goose-giblets, too, are good.

"In Weimar, the widowed muse's seat, Midst general grief I arrive. The people are crying 'Goethe's dead, And Eckermann's still alive!'"[A]

[A] There are eight more verses to this poem, which I take the liberty of omitting. E. L.

IN THE UNDERWORLD.

I.

"O to be a bachelor!" Pluto now forever sighs. "In my marriage miseries, I perceive, without a wife Hell was not a hell before.

"O to be a bachelor! Since my Proserpine is mine, Daily for my grave I pine, When she raileth I can hear Barking Cerberus no more.

"My poor heart needs rest and ease, In the realm of shades I cry,-- No lost soul is sad as I. Sisyphus I envy now, And the fair Danaïdes."

II.

In the realm of shades, on a throne of gold, By the side of her royal spouse, behold Fair Proserpine, With gloomy mien, While deep sighs upheave her bosom.

"The roses, the passionate song I miss Of the nightingale; yea, and the sun's warm kiss. Midst the Lemur's dread, And the ghostly dead, Now withers my life's young blossom.

"I am fast in the yoke of marriage bound To this cursèd rat-hole underground. Through my window at night, Peers each ghostly sprite, And the Styx murmurs lower and lower.

"To-day I have Charon invited to dinner, He is bald, and his limbs they grow thinner and thinner, And the judges, beside, Of the dead, dismal-eyed, In such company I shall grow sour."

III.

Whilst their grievance each is venting In the underworld below, Ceres, on the earth lamenting, Wrathful wanders to and fro.

With no hood in sloven fashion, Neither mantle o'er her gown, She declaims that lamentation Unto all of us well-known;

"Is the blessed spring-tide here? Has the earth again grown young? Green the sunny hills appear, And the icy band is sprung.

"Mirrored from the clear blue river. Zeus, unclouded, laugheth out, Softer zephyr's wings now quiver, Buds upon the fresh twig sprout."

In the hedge a new refrain; Call the Oreads from the shore, "All thy flowers come again, But thy daughter comes no more."

Ah, how many weary days I have sought o'er wide earth's space. Titan, all thy sunny rays I have sent on her dear trace.

Yet not one renews assurance Of the darling face I wot, Day, that finds all things, the durance Of my lost one, findeth not.

"Hast thou ravished, Zeus, my daughter? Or, love-smitten by her charms, Hath, o'er Orcus's night-black water, Pluto snatched her in his arms?

"Who towards that gloomy strand Herald of my grief will be? Ever floats the bark from land, Bearing phantoms ceaselessly.

"Closed those shadowy fields are ever Unto any blessèd sight. Since the Styx hath been a river, It hath borne no living wight.

"There are thousand stairs descending, But not one leads upward there. To her tears no token lending, At the anxious mother's prayer."

IV.

Oh, my mother-in-law, Ceres, Cease thy cries, no longer mourn. I will grant thee, what so dear is, I myself so much have borne.

Take thou comfort. We will fairly Thy child's ownership divide; And for six moons shall she yearly In the upper world abide.

Help thee through long summer hours In thy husbandry affairs; Binding up for thee the flowers, While a new straw-hat she wears.

She will dream when twilight pleasant Colors all the sky with rose; When by brooks some clownish peasant Sweetly on his sheep's pipe blows.

Not a harvest dance without her, She will frisk with Jack and Bess; Midst the geese and calves about her She will prove a lioness.

Hail, sweet rest! I breathe free, single, Here in Orcus far from strife, Punch with Lethe I will mingle, And forget I have a wife.

V.

At times thy glance appeareth to importune, As though thou didst some secret longing prove. Alas, too well I know it,--thy misfortune A life frustrated, a frustrated love.

How sad thine eyes are! Yet have I no power To give thee back thy youth with pleasure rife; Incurably thy heart must ache each hour For love frustrated and frustrated life.

THE VALE OF TEARS.

The night wind through the crannies pipes, And in the garret lie Two wretched creatures on the straw, As gaunt as poverty.

And one poor creature speaks and says, "Embrace me with thine arm, And press thy mouth against my mouth, Thy breath will keep me warm."

The other starveling speaks and says, "When I look into thine eyes Pain, cold and hunger disappear, And all my miseries."

They kissed full oft, still more they wept, Clasped hands, sighed deep and fast; They often laughed, they even sang, And both were still at last.

With morning came the coroner, And brought a worthy leech, On either corpse to certify The cause of death of each.

The nipping weather, he affirmed, Had finished the deceased. Their empty stomachs also caused, Or hastened death at last.

He added that when frost sets in 'Tis needful that the blood Be warmed with flannels; one should have, Moreover, wholesome food.

SOLOMON.