Chapter 4

And there, like cocks, crowed loudly, While folk went passing by. "Kickery-koo!" they fancied, 'Twas really the cock's own cry.

The chests that lay in the courtyard, With paper we overlaid. Therein we lived together; An excellent house we made.

The old cat of our neighbor Would visit us at whiles; We gave her bows and curtsies, And compliments and smiles.

After her health we inquired Gravely whenever she came. To many an ancient Tabby Since then we have done the same.

We talked like grown folks sagely, And sat there oft and long, Complaining how all had altered, Since the days when we were young.

How love and faith and friendship Had vanished, the world was bare; How dear were tea and coffee, And money had grown so rare!

Those childish games are over, All things roll on with youth,-- Money, the world, and the seasons, And faith and love and truth.

XLI.

My heart is heavy; from the present It yearns towards those old days again, When still the world seemed fair and pleasant, And men lived happy, free from pain.

Now all things seem at six and sevens, A scramble and a constant dread; Dead is the Lord God in the heavens, Below us is the devil dead.

And all folks sad and mournful moving, Wear such a cross, cold, anxious face; Were there not still a little loving, There would not be a resting place.

XLII.

As the moon with splendor pierces Through the dark cloud-veil of night, From my darksome Past emerges Once again a dream of light.

All upon the deck were seated, Proudly sailing down the Rhine. Green with June the shores were glowing In the evening's sunset-shine.

At the feet of a fair lady Sat I, full of thoughts untold, O'er her pale and lovely features Played the sunlight's ruddy gold.

Lutes were ringing, boys were singing, Wondrous joy on stream and shore. Blue and bluer grew the heavens, And the spirit seemed to soar.

Hill and city, wood and meadow, Glided past in fairy-wise. And I saw the whole scene mirrored In the lovely lady's eyes.

XLIII.

In a dream I saw my sweetheart, A woman harassed with care; Faded, and haggard, and withered, The form that had bloomed so fair.

One child in her arms she carried, And one by the hand she led. And trouble and poverty plainly In her eyes and her raiment I read.

Across the square she tottered, And face to face we stood. She looked at me, and I spoke then In quiet but mournful mood.

"Come home with me to my dwelling, Thou art pale and ill, I think, And there, with unceasing labor, I will furnish thee meat and drink.

"And I will serve thee, and cherish Thy children so wan and mild. And thyself more dearly than any, Thou poor, unhappy child.

"Nor will I vex thee by telling The love that burns in my breast; And I will weep when thou diest Over thy place of rest."

XLIV.

"Dearest friend, what may it profit To repeat the old refrain? Wilt thou, brooding still above it, Sitting on love's egg remain!

Ah, it needs incessant watching; From the shell the chicks have risen. Clucking, they reward thy hatching, And this book shall be their prison."

XLV.

Only bear with me in patience, If the notes of former wrongs Many a time distinctly echo In the latest of my songs.

Wait! the slow reverberation Of my grief will soon depart, And a spring of new song blossom In my healed, reviving heart.

XLVI.

'Tis time that, more sober and serious grown, From folly at last I break free. I, who so long in comedian's gown, Have played in the play with thee.

The scenes gaily painted were bright to behold, And in ultra-romantic tints shone. My knightly, rich mantle was spangled with gold; Noblest feelings were ever mine own.

But now with grave trouble my thoughts are beset, Although from the stage I depart; And my heart is as wretchedly miserable yet, As though I still acted my part.

Ah God! all unwitting and wholly in jest, What I felt and I suffered I told. I have fought against Death who abode in my breast Like the dying wrestler of old.

XLVII.

The great king Wiswamitra In dire distress is now. He seeks with strife and penance To win Waschischta's cow.

Oh, great King Wiswamitra, Oh what an ox art thou! So much to struggle and suffer, And only for a cow.

XLVIII.

Heart, my heart, oh, be not shaken! Bravely bear thy fate. Once more Shall the coming Spring restore What the Winter rude hath taken.

How abundant is thy measure! Still, O world, how fair thou art! And thou yet may'st love, my heart, Everything that gives thee pleasure.

XLIX.

Thou seemest like a flower, So pure and fair and bright; A melancholy yearning Steals o'er me at thy sight.

I fain would lay in blessing My hands upon thy hair, Imploring God to keep thee, So bright, and pure, and fair.

L.

Child, I must be very careful, For thy soul would surely perish, If the loved heart in thy bosom Love for me should ever cherish.

But the task proves all too easy, Strange regrets begin to move me. Meanwhile many a time I whisper: "If I could but make her love me!"

LI.

When on my couch reclining, Buried in pillows and night, There hovers then before me A form of grace and light.

As soon as quiet slumber Has closed my weary eyes, Then softly does the image Within my dream arise.

But with my dream at morning, It never melts away; For in my heart I bear it Through all the livelong day.

LII.

Maiden with the lips of scarlet, Clearest, sweetest eyes that be, O my darling little maiden, Ever do I think of thee!

Dreary is the winter evening: Would that I were in thy home, Sitting by thee, calmly chatting, In the cosy little room.

And upon my lips, my darling, I would press thy small white hand. I would press and I would moisten With my tears thy small, white hand.

LIII.

Let the snow without be piled, Let the howling storm rage wild, Beating o'er the window-pane,-- I will never more complain, For within my heart bide warm Spring-tide joy and sweetheart's form.

LIV.

Some to Mary bend the knee, Others unto Paul and Peter, I, however, I will worship, Sun of beauty, only thee.

Kiss me, love me, dearest one, Be thou gracious, show me favor, Fairest sun among all maidens, Fairest maiden under the sun.

LV.

Did not my pallid cheek betray My love's unhappy fate? And wilt thou force my haughty lips To beg and supplicate?

Oh far too haughty are these lips, They can but kiss and jest. They speak perchance a scornful word, While my heart breaks in my breast.

LVI.

Dearest friend, thou art in love, Tortured with new woes thou art; Darker grows it in thy brain, Lighter grows it in thy heart.

Dearest friend, thou art in love, Though thou hast not yet confessed. I can see thy flaming heart Burn already through thy vest.

LVII.

I fain by thee would tarry, To rest there and to woo; But thou away must hurry, Thou hadst too much to do.

I told thee that my spirit Was wholly bound to thee, And thou didst laugh to hear it, And curtsy low to me.

Yea, thou did'st much misuse me, In all my love's distress, And even didst refuse me At last the parting kiss.

I will not for thy glory Go drown, when all is o'er; My dear, this same old story Befell me once before.

LVIII.

Sapphires are those eyes of thine, So lovely and so sweet, Thrice blessed is the happy man Whom they with love will greet.

Thy heart, it is a diamond, That sheds a splendid light. Thrice blessed is the happy man For whom it glows so bright.

As red as rubies are thy lips, Naught fairer can I prove. Thrice blessed is the happy man To whom they whisper love.

Oh, knew I but that happy man, Could I at last discover, Deep in the greenwood, all alone-- His bliss were quickly over.

LIX.

Lovers' vows, wherefrom thou turnest, Bound me closely to thy heart, Now my jest grows sober earnest, I am pierced by mine own dart.

Laughingly thou stand'st before me-- If thou leave me in my need, All the powers of hell come o'er me, I shall shoot myself indeed.

LX.

Our life and the world have too fragment-like grown; To the German Professor I'll hie me anon Who sets in straight order all things overhurled. He will draw up a sensible system, I think, With his nightcap and nightgown he'll stop every chink In this tumble-down edifice known as the world.

LXI.

Long through my racked and weary brain Did endless thoughts and dreams revolve; But now thy lovely eyes, my dear, Have brought me to a firm resolve.

Within their radiance wise and kind, Where'er thine eyes shine, I remain. I could not have believed it true That I should ever love again.

LXII.

To-night they give a party, The house is all a-glow. Above, in the lighted window, Moves a shadow to and fro.

Thou see'st me not in the darkness, I stand below, apart. Still less, my dear, thou seeest Within my gloomy heart.

My gloomy heart it loves thee; It breaks for love of thee, It breaks, and yearns, and bleedeth, Only thou wilt not see.

LXIII.

I fain would outpour all my sorrows In a single word to-day. To the merry winds I would trust it, They would merrily bear it away.

They would bear it to thee, my darling, The word of sorrowful grace. Thou should'st hear it at every hour, Thou shouldst hear it in every place.

And scarce in the midnight darkness Shouldst thou close thine eyes in sleep, Ere my whispered word, it would follow, Though thy dream were ever so deep.

LXIV.

Thou hast diamonds, and pearls and jewels, All thy heart covets in store, And the loveliest eyes under heaven-- My darling, what wouldst thou more?

Upon thine eyes, so lovely, Have I written o'er and o'er Immortal songs and sonnets-- My darling, what wouldst thou more?

And with thine eyes so lovely Thou hast stung me to the core, And hast compassed my undoing-- My darling, what wouldst thou more?

LXV.

He who for the first time loves, E'en rejected, is a god. He who loves a second time, Unrequited, is a fool.

Such a fool am I, in loving Once again with no return. Sun and moon and stars are laughing; I am laughing too--and dying.

LXVI.

They gave me advice, they counseled sense, They overpowered with compliments. Patience! they said, and in my need They'd prove themselves my friends indeed.

Despite their promise to help and protect, I surely had perished of sheer neglect, Had there not come a worthy man, Who bravely to help me now began.

Oh, the worthy man! he gave me to eat; Such kindness as his I shall never forget. I long to embrace him, but never can, For I am myself this excellent man.

LXVII.

This most amiable of fellows Ne'er enough can honored be. Ah! to oysters, Rhine-wine, cordial, Many a time he treated me.

Natty are his hose and trousers, Nattier his cravat is seen; And he enters every morning, Asks me how my health has been.

Of my rich renown he speaketh, Of my charms and wit displayed. Zealous, eager seems he ever To befriend me and to aid.

And at parties in the evening, With inspired brow and eye, He declaims before the ladies My immortal poesy.

How delightfully refreshing Now-a-days to find still here Such a youth, when good things surely More and more do disappear.

LXVIII.

I dreamt I was Almighty God, And sat within the sky, And angels sat on either side, And praised my poetry.

And sweets and pasties there I ate, And drank the best Tokay, Worth many a precious florin bright, Yet had no bill to pay.

No less was I nigh bored to death, And longed for earth and evil, And were I not Almighty God, I fain had been the devil.

"Thou long-legged angel Gabriel, Make haste; begone from here! And hither bring my friend Eugene, The friend I love so dear.

"Within the college seek him not, But where good wine inspires. And seek him not in Hedwig Church, But seek him at Miss Myers'."

Then spreading broad his mighty wings, The angel doth descend, And hastens off, and brings me back Dear Bendel, my good friend.

Lo, youth, I am Almighty God! The earth is my estate. Did I not always promise thee I should be something great?

And I accomplish miracles That shall thy homage win. To-day to please thee I shall bless The city of Berlin.

Behold, the pavements of each street Now wider, broader, grown! And to an oyster, fresh and clear, Transformed is every stone.

A shower of sweet lemonade Pours down like dew divine. And through the very gutters flows The mellowest Rhine wine.

Oh, how the Berlinese rejoice! They lush o'er such good fare. The councillors and aldermen Will drain the gutters bare.

The poets are in ecstasies At such a feast divine. The captains and the corporals Lick up the streaming wine.

The captains and the corporals, What clever men are they! They think--such miracles as these Occur not every day.

LXIX.

I left you in the midmost of July, To-day, my friends in winter I behold. Then in the heat ye basked so warm and bright, But now ye have grown cool, yea, even cold.

Soon I depart again, and come once more, Then shall I find you neither warm nor cold. And I shall moan lamenting o'er your graves, And mine own heart shall then be poor and old.

LXX.

Oh, to be chased from lovely lips! and torn From lovely arms that clasped as in a dream. I fain had stayed with thee another morn. Then came the postboy with his tinkling team.

E'en such is life, my child, a constant moan-- A constant parting, evermore good-byes, Could not thy heart cling fast unto mine own? Couldst thou not hold me steadfast with thine eyes?

LXXI.

All night, in the shadowy post-chaise, We drove through the winter weather. We slept on each other's bosoms, We jested and laughed together.

But how were we both astonished, When morning bade us stir, Betwixt us two sat Cupid, The blindfold passenger.

LXXII.

Lord knows where the reckless creature Chose her transient stopping-place! Swearing through the rainy weather, Everywhere I seek her trace.

I have been to every tavern Running up and running down, And of every surly waiter Made inquiries in the town.

Lo, I see her in yon window! And she beckons--all is well! Could I guess that you had chosen, Lady, such a grand hotel?

LXXIII.

Like shadows black the houses Uprise in long array. Enveloped in my mantle I hurry on my way.

The old cathedral-belfry Chimes midnight grave and slow. With all her charms and kisses My love awaits me now.

The moon is my companion, Kind-beaming from the sky I reach the house beloved, And joyously I cry--

"I thank thee, trusty servant, That thou hast cheered my way. And now, dear moon, I leave thee. On others shed thy ray.

"And if a lonely lover Who sings of grief, thou see, Oh give him such sweet solace As thou hast given me."

LXXIV.

Wert thou, in sooth, mine honored wife, Then shouldst thou envied be; A merry pastime were thy life-- All pleasure, mirth, and glee.

And should'st thou scold, and rail and curse, I'd meekly bear my fate; But if thou do not praise my verse, Then shall we separate.

LXXV.

Upon thy snow-white shoulders I lean my head at rest; And secretly I hearken To the yearning of thy breast.

In thy heart hussars blue-coated Are riding and blowing their horn; And my darling will surely desert me With the earliest streak of morn.

And if thou desert me to-morrow, None the less art thou mine to-day. And within thine arms so lovely, Still doubly blest I stay.

LXXVI.

Hussars are blowing their trumpets, And to thy doors they ride. A garland of wreathed roses I bring to thee, my bride.

That were a boisterous household, Landpests and soldiery! And in thy little heart, dear, The goodliest quarters be.

LXXVII.

I, too, in my youth did languish, Suffered many a bitter anguish, Burning in love's spell. Now the price of fuel's higher, And extinguished is the fire, _Ma foi!_ and that is well.

Think of this, my youthful beauty, Dry the stupid tears of duty, Quell love's stupid, vague alarms. Since thy life is not yet over, Oh forget thy former lover, _Ma foi!_ within mine arms.

LXXVIII.

Dost thou hate me then so fiercely, Hast thou really changed so blindly? To the world I shall proclaim it, Thou could'st treat me so unkindly.

Say, ungrateful lips, how can you Breathe an evil word of scorning, Of the very man who kissed you So sincerely, yestermorning?

LXXIX.

Yes, they are the self-same eyes That still brighten as I greet her, Yes, they are the self-same lips That made all my life seem sweeter.

Yes, it is the very voice, At whose slightest tones I faltered But no more the same am I; I wend homeward strangely altered.

By the fair white arms embraced With a close and tender passion, Now I lie upon her heart, Dull of brain, in cold vexation.

LXXX.

Ye could not understand mine ire Nor I the tales that ye did tell, But when we met within the mire, We knew each other very well.

LXXXI.

But the eunuchs still complained, When I raised my voice to sing-- They complained and they maintained That it had too harsh a ring.

And they raised with one accord All their dainty voices clear, Little crystal trills outpoured-- Oh, how pure and fine to hear!

And they sang of love so sweet, Love's desire and love's full measure, That the rare artistic treat Made the ladies weep for pleasure.

LXXXII.

On the walls of Salamanca Gently sigh the breezes yonder. Often with my gracious Donna, There on summer eves I wander.

Round my beauty's slender girdle, Tenderly mine arm enwreathing, I can feel with blessed finger Her proud bosom's haughty breathing.

But I hear an anxious whisper Through the linden-branches coming, And below, the somber mill-stream Murmurs dreams of evil omen.

Ah, Señora, I foresee it! I shall be expelled forever, On the walls of Salamanca, We again shall wander never!

LXXXIII.

Next to me lives Don Henriquez, He whom folk "the beauty" call; Neighborly our rooms are parted Only by a single wall.

Salamanca's ladies flutter When he strides along the street, Clinking spurs, mustachoes twirling, And with hounds about his feet.

But in quiet hours of evening He will sit at home apart, His guitar between his fingers, And sweet dreams within his heart.

Then he smites the chords with passion, All at once begins to strum. Ah, like squalling cats his scrapings, Toll-de-roll and toodle-dum!

LXXXIV.

We scarcely had met ere thy voice and thine eye Assured me, my darling, that thou wast mine own; And had not thy mother stood cruelly nigh, I think I should really have kissed thee anon.

To-morrow again I depart from the town, And hasten forth on my weary track, From the window my yellow-haired lass peeps down, And the friendliest greetings I waft her back.

LXXXV.

Lo, on the mountains the sunbeams' first kiss! The bells of the herd ring afar on the plain, My darling, my lambkin, my sun and my bliss, Oh, fain would I see thee and greet thee again!

I gaze on thy windows with curious eyes. Farewell, dearest child, I must vanish for thee, In vain! for the curtain moves not--there she lies, There slumbers she still--and dreams about me?

LXXXVI.

In Halle, near the market, There stand two mighty lions. Ah, lion-strength of Halle town, How art thou tamed and broken!

In Halle, near the market, There stands a mighty giant, He holds a sword and he never moves, He is petrified with terror.

In Halle, near the market, A stately church is standing, Where the _Burschenschaft_ and the _Landsmannschaft_ Have plenty of room to worship.

LXXXVII.

Dusky summer-eve declineth Over wood and verdant meadow, Golden moon in azure heavens, Wafting fragrance, softly shineth.

By the brook-side chirps the cricket, Something stirs within the water, And the wanderer hears a rustling, Hears a breathing past the thicket.

In the streamlet, white and slender, All alone the nymph is bathing, Beautiful her arms and shoulders Shimmer in the moonbeams' splendor.

LXXXVIII.

Night enfolds these foreign meadows, Sick heart, weary limbs caressing. Ah, thy light athwart the shadows, Moon, is like a quiet blessing!

Gentle moon, thy mild beams banish Gloomy terrors where they hover. All my woes dissolve and vanish, And mine eyes with dew brim over.

LXXXIX.

Death is like the balmy night, Life is like the sultry day; It is dark, and I am sleepy. I am weary of the light.

O'er my couch a tree doth spring In its boughs a nightingale Sings of love, of naught but love, In my dream I hear him sing.

XC.

"Tell me where's your lovely maiden, Whom you sang of erst so well, As a flame that through your bosom Pierced with rare, enchanted spell."

Ah, that flame is long extinguished! And my heart is cold above. And this little book the urn is For the ashes of my love.

SONGS TO SERAPHINE.

SONGS TO SERAPHINE.

I.

In the dreamy wood I wander, In the wood at even-tide; And thy slender, graceful figure Wanders ever by my side.

Is not this thy white veil floating? Is not that thy gentle face? Is it but the moonlight breaking Through the dark fir-branches' space?

Can these tears so softly flowing Be my very own I hear? Or indeed, art thou beside me, Weeping, darling, close anear?

II.

Over all the quiet sea-shore Shadowing falls the hour of Hesper; Through the clouds the moon is breaking, And I hear the billows whisper.

"Can that man who wanders yonder Be a lover or a dunce? For he seems so sad and merry, Sad and merry both at once."

But the laughing moon looks downward, And she speaks, for she doth know it: "Yes, he is both fool and lover, And, to cap it all, a poet!"

III.

Behold! 'tis a foam-white sea-mew That flutters there on high. Far over the black night-waters The moon hangs up in the sky.

The shark and the roach dart forward For breath as the breeze floats by. The sea-mew poises and plunges, The moon hangs up in the sky.

Oh, lovely transient spirit, How heavy of heart am I! Too near to thee is the water, The moon hangs up in the sky.

IV.

In moonlit splendor rests the sea, The soft waves ripple along. My heart beats low and heavily, I think of the ancient song.

The ancient song that quaintly sings Towns lost in olden times; And how from the sea's abyss there rings The sound of prayers and chimes.

But pious prayers and chimes, I ween, Are offered all in vain. For that which once hath buried been May never come back again.

V.

I knew that thou must love me-- 'Twas long ago made clear. But thy confession filled me With deep and secret fear.

I clambered up the mountain, And sang aloud for glee. Then while the sun was setting, I wept beside the sea.

My heart is like the sun, dear, Yon kindled flame above; And sinks in large-orbed beauty Within a sea of love.

VI.