Chapter XI: Prologue (2)

The shark and the ray snap fiercely
From out of the wave, and stare;
The seamew is rising and falling,
The moon stands high in the air.

O dear and wandering spirit,
So sad and full of despair!
Too near art thou to the water,
The moon stands high in the air.

4.

I knew that thou didst love me,
I knew it long, dear maid;
Yet when thou didst confess it
I felt full sore afraid.

I clamber’d up the mountain
With loud exulting song,
At sunset rambled weeping
The ocean shore along.

The sun my heart resembleth,
So flaming to the sight,
And in a loving ocean
It setteth, great and bright.

5.

How curiously the seamew
Looks over at us, dear,
Because against thy lips I
So firmly press my ear!

She maybe would discover
What from thy mouth did flow,--
If words alone or kisses
Thou in my ear didst throw.

O could I but decipher
What ’tis that fills my mind!
The words are with the kisses
So wondrously combined.

6.

As timid as the roe she fled,
And with its fleetness vying;
She clamber’d on from crag to crag
Her hair behind her flying.

Where to the sea the cliffs descend,
At length I caught the rover;
And gently there with gentle words
Her coy heart soon won over.

High as the heavens we sat, both fill’d
With heavenly blest emotion;
Beneath us by degrees the sun
Sank in the dark deep ocean.

In the dark sea beneath us far
The beauteous sun sank proudly;
The billows with impetuous joy
Were meanwhile roaring loudly.

Weep not, the sun in yonder waves
Hath not for ever perish’d,
But lieth hidden in my heart,
Where all its glow is cherish’d.

7.

Upon this rock we build the Church
Which (type of our to-morrow)
Proclaims the third New Testament,
And ended is our sorrow.

The twofold nature that so long
Deceived us, is abolish’d;
Our olden fierce corporeal pangs
Are now at length demolish’d.

Hear’st thou the God in yon dark sea?
He speaks with thousand voices;
See’st thou how overhead God’s sky
With thousand lights rejoices?

Almighty God is in the light,
As in the dark abysses,
And everything there is, is God,
He is in all our kisses.

8.

Gray night broodeth o’er the ocean,
And the tiny stars are sparkling;
Long protracted voices oft-times
Sound from out the billows darkling.

There the aged north wind sporteth
With the glassy waves of ocean,
Which like organ pipes are skipping
With a never-ceasing motion.

Partly heathenish, partly churchlike,
Strangely doth this music move us,
As it rises boldly upwards,
Gladdening e’en the stars above us.

And the stars, still larger growing,
With a radiant joy are gleaming,
And at length around the heavens
Roam, with sunlike lustre beaming

To far-reaching strains of music
They revolve in madden’d legions
Sunny nightingales are circling
In those fair and blissful regions.

With a mighty roar and crashing,
Sea and heaven alike are singing,
And I feel a giant-rapture
Wildly through my bosom ringing

9.

Shadowy love and shadowy kisses,
Shadowy life, how wondrous strange!
Fool, dost think, then, that all this is
Ever true and free from change?

Like an empty dream hath vanish’d
All we loved with love so deep;
Memory from the heart is banish’d,
And the eyes are closed in sleep.

10.

The maid stood by the ocean,
And long and deep sigh’d she
With heartfelt sad emotion,
The setting sun to see.

Sweet maiden, why this fretting?
An olden trick is here;
Although before us setting,
He rises in our rear.

11.

With sails all black my ship sails on
Far over the raging sea;
Thou know’st full well how sad am I,
And yet tormentest me.

Thy heart is faithless as the wind,
And flutters ceaselessly;
With sails all black my ship sails on
Far over the raging sea.

12.

Though shamefully thou didst entreat me,
To no man would I e’er unfold it,
But travell’d far over the billows,
And unto the fishes I told it.

I’ve left thee thy good reputation
With earth and the beings upon her,
But every depth of the ocean
Knows fully thy tale of dishonour.

13.

The roaring waves are dashing
High on the strand;
They’re swelling and they’re crashing
Over the sand.

They come in noisy fashion
Unceasingly,--
At length burst into passion,--
But what care we?

14.

The Runic stone ’mongst the waves stands high,
There sit I, with thoughts far roaming;
The wind pipes loudly, the seamews cry,
The billows are curling and foaming.

I’ve loved full many a charming girl,
Loved many a comrade proudly--
Where are they now? The billows curl
And foam, and the wind pipes loudly.

15.

The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sunlit sky,
O let me there be buried,
My brethren, when I die.

The sea I have always loved so,
It oft hath cool’d my breast
With its refreshing billows,
Each in the other’s love blest.

2. ANGELICA.

1.

Now that heaven my wish hath granted,
Why be dumb, like mutes inglorious,--
I who, when unhappy, chanted
Of my woe with noise uproarious,

Till a thousand youths despairing
Sang like me with voices hollow,
And the song I sang uncaring
Made still greater mischief follow?

O ye nightingale-like chorus,
That I bear within my spirit,
Let your song of joy rise o’er us
Merrily, that all may hear it.

2.

Once more behind thee thou wert looking,
Swiftly as thou didst past me glide,
With open mouth, as if inquiring,
And in thy look a stormy pride.

O that I ne’er had sought to grasp it,
That flowing robe of snowy white!
The little foot’s enchanting traces,
O that they ne’er had met my sight!

Thy wildness now indeed hath vanish’d,
Like other women tame art thou,
And mild, and somewhat over-civil,
And, ah, thou even lov’st me now.

3.

I’ll not credit, youthful beauty,
What thy bashful lips may say;
Eyes so black and large and rolling
Are not much in virtue’s way.

Strip away this brown-striped falsehood--
Well and truly love I thee;
Let thy white heart kiss me, dearest--
White heart, understand’st thou me?

4.

Upon her mouth I give a kiss,
And close her either eye;
She gives me now no peace for this,
But asks the reason why.

From night to morn, because of this,
This is her constant cry:
“When on my mouth thou giv’st a kiss,
“Why close my either eye?”

I tell her not the cause of this,
Nor know the reason why,
Yet on her mouth I give a kiss,
And close her either eye.

5.

When I am made blest with kisses delicious,
And lie in thine arms, O in that happy season
Thou ne’er must discourse of Germany, dearest,--
It spoils my digestion,--there’s plenty of reason.

With Germany leave me in peace, I implore thee,
Thou must not torment me with question on question
Of home and relations and manner of living,--
There’s plenty of reason,--it spoils my digestion.

The oaks there are green, and blue are the dear eyes
Of German women; they sigh as they please on
The blisses of love and of hope and religion,--
It spoils my digestion,--there’s plenty of reason.

6.

Whilst I after other people
And their treasures have been prying,
And with ever-restless yearning,
At strange doors of love been spying,

Probably those other people
Have been taking their own pleasure
Similarly, and been ogling
At my window my own treasure.

This is human! God in heaven
In our every action guard us!
God in heaven give us blessings,
And with happiness reward us!

7.

O yes, thou art my ideal forsooth,
I’ve often confirmed it till dizzy
With kisses and oaths unnumber’d in truth;--
To-day I however am busy.

Return to-morrow between two and three,
And then a fresh-kindled passion
Shall prove my love, and afterwards we
Will dine in a friendly fashion.

And if I in time the tickets receive,
We’ll join in a merry revel,
And go to the Opera, where I believe
They’re playing Robert the Devil.

A wondrous magic play is here,
With devils’ loves and curses;
The music is by Meyerbeer;
By Scribe the wretched verses.

8.

Dismiss me not, although thy thirst
The pleasant draught has still’d;
Some three months longer keep me on,
Till I too have been fill’d.

If thou my love canst not remain,
O be my friend, I pray;
For when one has outloved one’s love,
Friendship may have its way.

9.

This wild carnival of loving,
This delirium of our bosoms
Comes unto an end, and now we
Soberly gape on each other!

Drain’d the cup is to the bottom,
Brimming with intoxication,
Foaming, glowing to the margin;
Drain’d the cup is to the bottom.

And the fiddles too are silent,
Which for dancing gave the signal,
Signal for the dance of passion;
Yes, the fiddles too are silent.

And the lamps too are extinguish’d,
Which their wild light shed so brightly
On the masquerade exciting;
Yes, the lamps too are extinguish’d.

And to-morrow comes Ash-Wednesday,
When I’ll sign upon thy forehead
With the cross of ashes, saying:
“Woman, that thou’rt dust, forget not.”

10.

O how rapidly develop
From mere fugitive sensations
Passions that are fierce and boundless,
Tenderest associations!

Tow’rds this lady grows the bias
Of my heart on each occasion,
And that I’m enamoured of her
Has become my firm persuasion.

Beauteous is her spirit. Truly
Thus I learn to rise superior
To the overpowering beauty
Of her form and mere exterior.

Ah, what hips! and, ah, what forehead!
Ah, what nose! Could aught serener
Be than this sweet smile she’s wearing?
And how noble her demeanour!

11.

Ah, how fair art thou, whenever
Thou thy mind disclosest sweetly,
And thy language with the grandest
Sentiments o’erflows discreetly!

When thou tell’st me how thou always
Worthily and nobly thoughtest;
How unto thy pride of heart thou
Greatest sacrifices broughtest!

How with countless millions even
Men could woo and win thee never;
Sooner than be sold for money
Thou wouldst quit this world for ever.

And I stand before thee, listening
To the end with due emotion;
Like an image mute of faith, I
Fold my hands with meek devotion.

12.

Have no fear, dear soul, I pray thee,
Thou art safe here evermore;
Fear not lest they’ll take away thee,
For I’ll forthwith bar the door.

Though the wind may roar around us,
It will do no mischief here;
That a fire may not confound us,
Let us put the light out, dear!

Let me in mine arm, dear small one,
Thy enchanting neck enfold;
In the absence of a shawl, one
Gets so very quickly cold.

3. DIANA.

1.

These fair limbs, of size so massive,
Of colossal womanhood,
Now are, in a yielding mood,
Under my embraces passive.

Had I, with unbridled passion,
Trusting in my strength drawn near,
I had soon had cause for fear!
She had thrashed me in strange fashion.

How her bosom, neck, throat charm me
(Higher I can scarcely see);
Ere alone I’d with her be,
Pray I that she may not harm me.

2.

’Twas in the Bay of Biscay
That she first saw the light;
Two kittens in the cradle
She squeezed to death outright.

Across the Pyrenees she
With feet uncover’d ran;
Then for her size gigantic
Was shown at Perpignan.

She’s now the grandest dame in
The Faubourg Saint-Denis,
Where unto small Sir William
Some thousand pounds costs she.

3.

Often when I am with thee,
Much-beloved and noble lady,
The remembrance steals o’er me
Of Bologna’s market shady.
There a massive fount doth stand--
’Tis the Giants’ Fountain pretty--
With a Neptune, by the hand
Of Giovanni of that city.

4. HORTENSE.

1.

Once I thought each kiss a woman
Gives us, or receives instead,
By some influence superhuman
Was from old predestinèd.

I both took and gave back willing
Kisses then as earnestly
As if I were but fulfilling
Actions of necessity.

Kisses are superfluous,--this I
Have discover’d on life’s stage,
And with small concern now kiss I,
Heedless of the surplusage.

2.

Beside the corner of the street
We stood in fond communion
For full an hour, and talked about
Our spirits’ loving union.

We loved each other--this we said
A hundred times repeating;
Beside the corner of the street
We stood, and went on greeting.

The Goddess of Occasion, brisk
As waiting maids, and sprightly,
Pass’d by that way and saw us stand
And smiled, and went on lightly.

3.

In all my dreams by daytime,
In all my watchings nightly,
Thy sweet delicious laughter
Rings through my spirit lightly.

Remember’st Montmorency,
Where, on the donkey riding,
Thou fell’st among the thistles,
From off the saddle gliding?

The ass stood still, the thistles
Demurely looking after,--
I never shall forget, love,
Thy sweet delicious laughter.

4.

(_She speaks._)

In the garden fair a tree stands,
And an apple hangeth there,
And around the trunk a serpent
Coils himself, and I can ne’er
From the serpent’s eyes enchanting
Turn away my troubled sight,
And he whispers words alluring,
And enthrals me with delight.

(_The other one speaks._)

’Tis the fruit of life thou spyest,--
Its delicious flavour taste,
That thy life until thou diest
May not be for ever waste!
Darling dove, sweet child, no sighing!
Quickly taste, and never fear;
Follow my advice, relying
On thy aunt’s sage counsel, dear.

5.

On my newly-tuned guitar I
Play new tunes that seem much fitter
Old the text is, for the words are
Solomon’s: A woman’s bitter.

To her husband she is faithless,
And she treats her friend with malice;
Wormwood are the last remaining
Drops in love’s once-golden chalice.

Tell me, is the ancient legend
Of the curse of sin no libel?
Did the serpent bring it on thee,
As recorded in the Bible?

Creeping on the earth, the serpent
Lurks in every bush around thee,
Still, as formerly, caresses,
And her hisses still confound thee.

Ah, how cold and dark ’tis growing!
Round the sun the ravens hover
Croakingly, and love and rapture
Now for evermore are over.

6.

The bliss that thou didst falsely pledge
For but a short time cheated;
Thine image, like a vision false,
Soon from my bosom fleeted.

The morning came, the mist soon fled
Before the sun’s rays splendid;
And wellnigh ere it had commenced,
Our passing fondness ended.

5. CLARISSA.

1.

All my charming loving offers
Thou art eagerly declining;
If I say: “Is this refusal?”
Thou at once beginnest whining.

Seldom pray I, but now hear me,
Gracious God! O help this maiden!
Dry her sweet tears, and enlighten
Her poor brains so sorrow-laden!

2.

Wheresoever thou mayst wander,
Thou dost every hour behold me,
And I love thee all the fonder,
When thou dost rebuke and scold me.
Charming malice will ensnare me,
While I hate a kindly action;
And the surest way to scare me,
Is to love me to distraction.

3.

May the devil take thy mother
And thy father, for their cruel
Conduct at the play, in hiding
Thee from me, my precious jewel!

There they sat, their spreading dresses
Leaving but few spaces only
Through the which to spy thee sitting
In the box’s rear, all lonely.

There they sat, and saw two lovers
Both destroy’d, with eyes admiring;
And they clapp’d a loud approval
When they saw them both expiring.

4.

Go not through the naughty quarters
Where the pretty eyes are living;
Ah, they fain would spare their lightnings
With a semblance of forgiving.

From the high bow-window looking
In a loving way they greet thee,
Smiling kindly (death and devil!)
Sisterlike their glances meet thee.

But thou’rt on thy way already,
And in vain is all thy striving;
Thou wilt have a very breastful
Of distress, when home arriving.

5.

It comes too late, thy present smiling,
It comes too late, thy present sigh!
The feelings all long since have perish’d
That thou didst spurn so cruelly.

Too late has come thy love responsive,
My heart thou vainly seek’st to stir
With burning looks of love, all falling
Like sunbeams on a sepulchre.

* * * * *

This would I learn: when life is ended,
O whither doth our spirit go?
Where is the flame when once extinguish’d?
The wind, when it hath ceased to blow?

6.

Wounded, in distress, and sickly,
On a lovely summer’s morrow
Men I fly, and bury quickly
In the wood my bitter sorrow.

As I move, in mute compassion
All the noisy birds are vying;
At my grief in wondrous fashion
Each dark linden-tree is sighing.

In the vale I sadly sit on
Some green bank, sweet balm exhaling:
“Kitten! O my pretty kitten!”
And the hills repeat my wailing.

Kitten! O my pretty kitten!
Why delightest thou to do ill?
Sadly is my poor heart smitten
By thy tiger-talons cruel.

For my heart, grown stern and sadden’d,
Long had been to joy a stranger,
Till by new love I was gladden’d
At thy sight, and fear’d no danger.

Thou in secret seem’dst to mew thus:
“Have no fear of being bitten;
“Prythee trust me when I sue thus,
“I’m a very gentle kitten.”

* * * * *

7.

Whilst sweet Philomel in airy
Woods at random sings and wildly,
Thou preferrest the canary
Doubtless, as it flutters mildly.

In the cage I see thee feeding
This small bird, so tame and yellow,
And it picks thy fingers, pleading
For some sugar, pretty fellow!

Charming is the scene and moving!
Angels must enjoy the notion!
I myself, with look approving,
Drop a tear of deep emotion.

8.

With Wedding Gifts the Spring Has Arrived,
With music and exultation;
It brings the bridegroom and the bride
Its hearty congratulation.

It brings its violets, rosebuds fair,
And jasmine and herbs sweet-scented,
And for the bride asparagus too,--
The bridegroom’s with salad contented.

9.

God protect thee from o’erheating,
And thy heart from palpitation,
Keep thee from excessive eating,
And excessive perspiration.

As upon thy day of marriage
May thy love be ever blessèd!
Ne’er the bridal yoke disparage!
Be thy frame with health possessèd!

10.

Pretty maid, if so inclined,
Thou mayst now thus think anent me
This man’s conduct is unkind,
For he’s seeking to torment me;--

Me, who never said a word
That could possibly offend him;
Who, when others’ blame I heard,
Did my utmost to befriend him.

Me, who had resolved in fact
By-and-by to love him dearly,
Had he not begun to act
As if he were frantic nearly!

11.

How thou snarlest, laughest, broodest.
How thou in ill humour twistest,
When thou, to all love a stranger,
Yet on jealousy existest!

’Tis not red and fragrant roses
Thou dost smell and love so dearly;
No, amongst the thorns thou sniffest,
Till they scratch thy nose severely.

6. YOLANTE AND MARY.

1.

Both these ladies know by instinct
How a poet well to treat,
For they ask’d me and my genius
Luncheon with them once to eat.

Ah! the soup was quite delicious,
And the wine was old and rare,
And the game was really heavenly,
And well-larded was the hare.

They of poetry kept talking,
Till I had enough at last,
And I thank’d them for the honour
Of this very kind repast.

2.

With which shall I become enamour’d,
Since both are loveable and mild?
The mother’s still a pretty woman,
The daughter is a pretty child.

The white and inexperienced members
Are very pleasant to the view,
And yet the genial eyes that answer
Our tenderness are charming too.

My heart the jackass grey resembles,
Who when twixt two hay bundles placed,
Eyes them with hesitation, doubting
Which of the two the best will taste.

3.

The bottles are empty, the breakfast was good,
The ladies are gay and impassion’d;
They open their corsets in right merry mood,
Methinks they with point lace are fashion’d.

Their bosoms how fair! Their shoulders how white!
My heart is soon trembling all over;
They presently jump on the bed with delight,
And hide themselves under the cover.

The curtains around them before long they pull,
And snore away, free from intrusion;
I stand in the chamber alone, like a fool,
And stare at the bed in confusion.

4.

Now that I’m fast growing older,
Youth’s by keener fire replaced,
And my arm, becoming bolder,
Circles many a loving waist.

Though at first they were affrighted,
Yet they soon were reconcil’d;
Modest doubts and wrath united
Were o’ercome by flattery mild.

Yet the best of all is wanting
When I taste my victory;
Can it be my youth’s enchanting
Bashful weak stupidity?

5.

This tricolour’d flow’r now worn is
In my breast, to show I’m free,
Proving that my heart freeborn is,
And a foe to slavery.

Sweet Queen Mary, who thy quarters
In my heart hast fix’d, pray list:
Many of earth’s fairest daughters
There have reign’d, then been dismiss’d.

7. EMMA.

1.

He stands as firm as a tree stem,
In heat and tempest and frost;
His toes in the ground are planted,
His arms are heavenward toss’d.

Thus long is Bagíratha tortured,
And Brama his torments would end;
He makes the mighty Ganges
Down from the heavens descend.

But I, my loved one, am vainly
Tormented and stricken with woe;
From out of thine heavenly eyelids
No drops of pity e’er flow.

2.

Four-and-twenty hours I still must
Wait, to see my bliss complete,
As her sidelong glances tell me,
Glances, O how dazzling sweet!

Language is but inexpressive,
Words are awkward and in vain;
Soon as they are said, the pretty
Butterfly flies off again.

But a look may last for ever,
And with joy may fill thy breast,
Making it like some wide heaven,
Full of starry rapture blest.

3.

Not one solitary kiss
After months of loving passion,
So my mouth must still continue
Dry, in very wretched fashion.

Happiness seem’d once at hand,
And her breath I e’en felt nigh me
But without my lips e’er touching,
She, alas! soon fleeted by me.

4.

Emma, for my satisfaction
Say if I’m distracted driven,
By my love, or is love only
The result of my distraction?

Ah! I’m tortured, charming Emma,
Not alone by my mad loving,
Not alone by loving madness,
But besides by this dilemma.

5.

When I’m with thee, strife and need!
So I on my travels started;
Yet my life, when from thee parted,
Is no life, but death indeed.

Pondering all the livelong night,
I ’twixt death and hell lay choosing--
Ah, methinks this strife confusing
Now has driv’n me mad outright!

6.

Fast is creeping on us dreary
Night with many a ghostly shape,
And our souls are growing weary,
And we at each other gape.

Thou art old and I still older,
And our spring has ceased to bloom;
Thou art cold, and I still colder,
At th’ approach of winter’s gloom.

At the end, how all is sadden’d!
After love’s sweet cares are past,
Cares draw nigh, by love ungladden’d,
After life comes death at last.

8. FREDERICA.

1.

O leave Berlin, with its thick-lying sand,
Weak tea, and men who seem so much to know
That they both God, themselves, and all below
With Hegel’s reason only understand.

O come to India, to the sunny land
Where flowers ambrosial their sweet fragrance throw
Where pilgrim troops on tow’rd the Ganges go
With reverence, in white robes, a festal band.

There, where the palm-trees wave, the billows smile,
And on the sacred bank the lotos-tree
Soars up to Indra’s castle blue,--yes there,

There will I kneel to thee in trusting style,
And press against thy foot, and say to thee:
“Madam, thou art the fairest of the fair!”

2.

The Ganges roars; amid the foliage see
The sharp eyes of the antelope, who springs
Disdainfully along; their colour’d wings
The peacocks as they move, show haughtily.

Deep from the bosom of the sunny lea
Rises a newborn race of flowers, sweet things;
With yearning-madden’d voice Cocila sings--
Yes, thou art fair, no woman’s like to thee!

God Cama[9] lurks in all thy features fair,
He dwells within thy bosom’s tents so white,
And breathes to thee the sweetest songs he knows.

Upon thy lips Vassant[10] has made his lair,
I find within thine eyes new worlds of light,
In my own world no more I find repose.

3.

The Ganges roars; the mighty Ganges swells,
The Himalaya glows in evening’s light,
And from the banyan-forest’s gloomy night
The elephantine herd breaks forth and yells.

O for a type to show how she excels!
A typo of thee, so lovely to the sight,
Thee the incomparable, good and bright,
So that sweet rapture in my bosom dwells.

In vain thou see’st me seek for types, and prate,--
See’st me with feelings struggle, and with rhyme,
And, ah, thou smilest at my pangs of love!

But smile! For when thou smil’st, Gandarvas straight
Seize on the sweet guitar, and all the time
Sing in the golden sunny halls above.

9. CATHERINE.

1.

A beauteous star arises o’er my night,
A star which smiles down on me comfort bright,
And new life pledges to supply,--
O do not lie!

As leaps to the moon the sea with sullen roar,
So gladly, wildly, doth my spirit soar
Up to thy blissful light on high,--
O do not lie!

2.

“Will you not be presented to her?”
The duchess whisper’d once to me.
“On no account! for I to woo her
“Methinks have too much modesty.”

How gracefully she stands before me!
I fancy, when I near her go,
A newborn life is stealing o’er me,
With newborn joy and newborn woe.

I’m from her kept as though by anguish,
While yearning drives me to draw near;
Her eyes, as they so sweetly languish,
The wild stars of my fate appear.

Her brow is clear, yet in the distance
The future lightning gathers there,
The storm which, spite of all resistance,
My spirit’s deepest seat will tear.

Her mouth is lovely, but with terror
I see beneath the roses hiss
The serpents which will prove my error,
With honied scorn and treach’rous kiss.

Impell’d by yearning, still more near I
Draw to the dear but dangerous place;
Her darling voice already hear I--
Bright flames her every sentence grace.

“Sir, what’s the name”--I hear her utter
These words--“Of her whose voice I heard?”
I only answer with a stutter:
“Madam, I did not hear one word!”

3.

Yes, I now, a poor magician,
Like sage Merlin, am held fast
In my magic ring at last,
In disconsolate condition.

At her feet imprison’d sweetly
I am lying all the while,
Gazing on her eyes’ sweet smile,
And the hours are passing fleetly.

Thus, for hours, days, weeks behold me!
Like a vision time has fled,
Scarcely know I what I said,
And I know not what she told me.

Just as if her lips were dearly
Press’d to mine, beyond control
I am stirr’d, till in my soul
I can trace the flames full clearly.

4.

Thou lie’st in my arms so gladly.
So gladly thou lie’st on my heart!
I am thy one sole heaven,
My dearest star thou art.

The foolish race of mortals
Is swarming far below;
They’re shouting and storming and scolding,
(And each one is right, I well know)

Their cap and bells they jingle,
And quarrel without a cause,
And with their heavy club-sticks
They break each other’s jaws.

How happy are we, my darling,
That we so far away are;
Thou hidest in thy heaven
Thy head, my dearest star!

5.

I love such white and snowy members,
The thin veil of a spirit tender,
Wild and large eyes, a brow encompass’d
With flowing locks of swarthy splendour.

Thou art indeed the very person
Whom I in every land have sought for,
While girls like thee a man of honour
Like me have always cared and thought for.

The very man thou stand’st in need of
Is found in me. At first thou’lt pay me
Richly with sentiments and kisses,
And then, as usual, wilt betray me.

6.

The spring’s already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.

My darling sitteth by my side,
In carriage onward fleeting;
She looks on me with tender pride,
Her heart, I feel it beating.

What warbling, what fragrance the sun’s light awakes!
Like jewels the verdure is gleaming,
His snowy-blossoming head soon shakes
The sapling with joyous seeming.

The flowers peep forth from the earth to see,
With longing in every feature,
The lovely woman won by me,
And me, the happy creature.

O transient bliss! Across the corn
To-morrow will pass the sickle,
The beauteous spring wither, and I all forlorn
Be left by the woman fickle.

7.

Lately dreamt I I was walking
In the happy realms of heaven,
Walking with thee, for without thee,
Heaven itself would be a hell.

There I saw th’ Elect together,
All the righteous and the godly,
Who had for their souls’ salvation
Mortified on earth their bodies.

Fathers of the Church, apostles,
Capuchins and holy hermits,
Strange old fellows, some strange young ones--
’Twas the latter look’d the ugliest!

Very long and saintly faces,
Ample bald pates, also grey beards
(Various Jews were of the number)
Pass’d us, looking stern and solemn.

Not one look upon thee throwing,
Although thou, my pretty darling,
On my arm wert hanging, toying,
Toying, smiling, and coquetting.

One alone upon thee look’d,
And he was the only handsome,
Handsome man of all the number;
And majestic were his features.

Round his lips was human kindness,
In his eyes divine repose,
And he mildly gazed upon thee
As upon the Magdalene.

Ah! I know, he meant it kindly,
None was e’er so pure and noble,
But I, I was notwithstanding
Moved as by an envious feeling;

And, I must confess, I found it
Far from pleasant up in heaven--
May God pardon me! Our Saviour
Jesus Christ I deem’d intrusive.

8.

Each person to this feast enchanting
His mistress takes, and with delight
Roams in the blooming summer night.
I wander alone, for my loved one is wanting.

Like some sick man, I wander all lonely,
And far from the mirth and dancing go,
The music sweet and the lamps’ bright glow
My thoughts are away, and in England only.

I pluck the pinks and I pluck the roses,
Distractedly and full of woe,
And know not on whom the flow’rs to bestow;
My heart soon withers along with the posies.

9.

Long songless and oppress’d with sadness,
I now compose again with yearning!
Like tears that from us burst with madness
My songs are suddenly returning.

Again I chant, with voice melodious,
Of great love and still greater sorrow;
Of hearts which, to each other odious
To-day, when parted break to-morrow.

I ofttimes think I feel the greeting
Of German oak trees waving o’er me,
With whispers of a glad re-meeting--
A dream! they vanish from before me.

I ofttimes think I hear the singing
Of German nightingales once cherish’d;
Sweetly their notes are round me clinging--
A dream! the vision soon has perish’d.

Where are the roses whose delicious
Perfume once bless’d me? Every blossom
Long since has died! With taint pernicious
Their ghostly scent still haunts my bosom.

10. SONGS OF CREATION.

1.

God at first the sun created,
Then each nightly constellation;
From the sweat of his own forehead
Oxen were his next creation.

Wild beasts he created later,
Lions with their paws so furious;
In the image of the lion
Made he kittens small and curious.

Afterwards, the wilds to people,
Man to spring to being bade he,
And in man’s attractive image
Interesting monkeys made he.

Satan saw it, full of laughter:
“Copies from himself he’s taking!
“In the image of his oxen
“Calves he finally is making.”

2.

To the devil spake the Lord thus:
Copies of myself I’m taking;
After sun come constellations,
After oxen, calves I’m making.

After lions with their furious
Paws, I’m making kittens curious,
After men come monkeys clever:
Thou canst nothing make, however.

3.

I made for my glory and edification
Men, lions, and oxen, and sunlight splendid;
But calves, cats, monkeys, and each constellation
For nought but my own delight I intended.

4.

With one short week of preparation
The whole of the world was made by me
And yet I work’d out the plan of creation
For thousands of years full thoughtfully.

Creation itself is a mere act of motion
That’s easily done in a very short time;
And yet the plan, the primary notion,--
’Tis that that proves the artist sublime.

Three hundred long years have I been taking
In solving the question by slow degrees
As to which was the proper manner of making
Both Doctors of Law and little fleas.

5.

On the sixth day spake the Lord thus:
I have finish’d finally
All this vast and fair creation,
And that all is good, I see.

How the sun’s rays, golden-roselike,
O’er the ocean brightly gleam!
Every tree is green and glittering,
And enamell’d all things seem.

On the plain yon lambkins sporting
Are like alabaster white;
O how natural and perfect
Nature seemeth to the sight!

Earth and heaven alike are teeming
With my glorious majesty,
And through long and endless ages
Man will praise and worship me.

6.

The stuff out of which a poem is wrought
Is not to be suck’d from the finger;
No God created the world from nought
Any more than an earthly singer.

’Twas mud primeval that form’d the source
Whence the body of man I created,
And from the ribs of man in due course
Fair woman I separated.

The heavens I form’d from out of the earth,
And angels from women completed;
The raw material first gets its worth
From being artist’cally treated.

7.

The chiefest reason why I made
The earth, I will confess with gladness:
Within my soul, like fiery madness,
A burning call to do so play’d.

Illness was the especial ground
Of my creative inclination;
I might recover by creation,
Creation made me once more sound.

11. ABROAD.

1.

From place to place thou’rt wandering still,
Thou scarcely knowest why;
A gentle word the wind doth fill,--
Thou look’st round wond’ringly.

My loved one, who was left behind,
Is calling softly now:
“Return, I love thee, O be kind,
My only joy art thou!”

But on, still on, no peace, no rest,
Thou never still mayst be;
What thou of yore didst love the best,
Thou ne’er again shalt see.

2.

Thou art to-day of sadder seeming
Than thou hast been for long before;
Mute tears upon thy cheeks are gleaming,
Thy sighs wax louder more and more.

Of thy far home long vanish’d is it
That thou art thinking, full of pain?
Wouldst thou not joyfully revisit
Thy much-loved fatherland again?

Art thinking now of her who sweetly
With tiny rage enchanted thee?
Vex’d by her oft, ye soon completely
Were reconciled, and laugh’d with glee.

Art thinking of the friends whom yearning
Impell’d to fall upon thy breast?
Within the heart the thoughts were burning,
And yet the lips remain’d at rest.

Or of the sister and the mother
Art thinking, who approved thy suit?
Methinks within thy breast, good brother,
Wild passions fast are growing mute.

Of the fair garden art thou thinking,
Its birds and trees, where love’s young dream
Ofttimes sustain’d thy spirits sinking,
And hope shone forth with trembling beam?

’Tis late. The snow has fallen thickly,
Bright night illumes the humid mass;
I now must go, and hasten quickly
To dress for company,--Alas!

3.

Of my fair fatherland I once was proud;
Beside the stream
The oak soar’d high, the violets gently bow’d;
It was a dream.

German the kisses were, in German too
(Sweet then did seem
The sound) they spake the words: “Yes, I love you!”--
It was a dream.

12. TRAGEDY

1.

O fly with me, and be my wife,
And to my heart for comfort come!
Far, far away hence be my heart,
Thy fatherland and father’s home.

If thou’lt not go, I here will die,
And all alone abandon thee;
And if thou in thy father’s home
Dost stay, thou’lt seem abroad to be.

2.

A genuine national song, heard by Heine on the Rhine.

There fell a frost in a night of spring,
It fell on the tender flowerets blue,
They all soon wither’d and faded.

A youth once loved a maiden full well,
They secretly fled away from the house,
Unknown to father and mother.

They wander’d here and they wander’d there,
And neither joy nor star could they find,
And so they droop’d and they perish’d.

3.

Upon her grave a linden is springing,
Where birds and the evening breeze are singing,
And on the green sward under it
The miller’s boy and his sweetheart sit.

The winds are blowing so softly and fleetly,
The birds are singing so sadly and sweetly,
The prattling lovers are mute by-and-by,
They weep and they know not the reason why.

13. THE TANNHAUSER.

A LEGEND.

(Written in 1836.)

1.

O all good Christians, be on your guard,
Lest Satan’s wiles ensnare you!
I’ll sing you the song of the Tannhauser bold,
That ye may duly beware you.

The noble Tannhauser, a valiant knight,
For love and pleasure yearning,
To the Venus’ mount travell’d, and there he dwelt
Seven years without returning.

“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, farewell!
“Though much thou mayst enchant me,
“No longer will I tarry with thee,
“Permission to leave now grant me.”

“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“To-day you have kept from kissing;
“So kiss me quickly and tell me true,
“What is there in me you find missing?

“Have I each day the sweetest wine
“Not pour’d out for you gaily?
“And have I not always crown’d your head
“With fragrant roses daily?”--

“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, in truth
“My soul no longer finds pleasing
“These endless kisses and luscious wine,--
“I long for something that’s teasing.

“Too much have we jested, too much have we laugh’d,
“My heart for tears has long panted;
“Each rose on my head I fain would see
“By pointed thorns supplanted.”--

“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“You fain would vex and grieve me;
“An oath you have sworn a thousand times
“That you would never leave me.

“Come, let us into the chamber go,
“To taste of love’s rapture and gladness,
“And there my fair and lily-white form
“Shall drive away thy sadness.”--

“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, thy charms
“Will bloom for ever and ever;
“As many already have glow’d for thee,
“So men will forget thee never!

“But when I think of the heroes and gods
“Who erst have taken their pleasure
“In clasping thy fair and lily-white form
“My anger knows no measure.

“Thy fair and lily-white figure with dread
“Is filling me even this minute,
“When thinking how many in after times
“Will still take pleasure in it!”--

“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“You should not utter such treason;
“’T’were better to beat me, as you have before
“Oft done for many a season.

“’T’were better to beat me, than such harsh words
“Of insult thus to have spoken,
“Whereby, O Christian ungrateful and cold,
“The pride in my bosom is broken.

“Because I love you so much, I forgive
“Your evil words, thankless mortal;
“Farewell, I grant you permission to leave,
“I’ll open myself the portal.”

2.

In Rome, in the holy city of Rome,
With singing and ringing and blowing
A grand procession is moving on,
The Pope in the middle is going.

The pious Pope Urban is his name,
The triple crown he is wearing,
He wears a red and purple robe,
And Barons his train are bearing.

“O holy Father, Pope Urban, stay!
“I will not move from my station,
“Until thou hast saved my soul from hell,
“And heard my supplication!”--

The ghostly songs are suddenly mute,
The people fall backwards dumbly;
O who is the pilgrim pale and wild
Who bends to the Pope so humbly?

“O holy Father, Pope Urban, to whom
“To bind and to loose not too much is,
“O save me from the pangs of hell,
“And out of the Evil One’s clutches!

“By name, I’m the noble Tannhauser call’d;
“For love and pleasure yearning,
“To the Venus’ mount I travell’d and dwelt
“Seven years there without returning.

“This Venus is a woman fair
“With charms of dazzling splendour;
Like light of sun and flowers’ sweet scent
“Her voice is gentle and tender.

“As a butterfly flutters around a flower
“And from its calyx sips too,
So flutters my soul for evermore
“Around her rosy lips too.

“Around her noble features entwine
“Her blooming black locks wildly;
Thy breath would be gone if once her great eyes
“Were fix’d upon thee mildly.

“If her great eyes upon thee were fix’d
“They surely would harass thee greatly;
’Twas with the greatest trouble that I
“Escaped from the mountain lately.

“From out of the mountain I made my escape
“And yet for ever pursue me
“The looks of the beautiful woman, which seem
“To say ‘O hasten back to me!’

“A wretched spectre by day I’ve become,
“At night I vainly would hide me
“In sleep, for I dream that my mistress dear
“Is sitting and laughing beside me.

“How clearly, how sweetly, how madly she laughs
“Her white teeth all the while showing!
“Whenever I think of that laugh, in streams
“The tears from my eyes begin flowing.

“I love her indeed with a boundless love
“That scorches me up to a cinder;
“’Tis like a wild waterfall, whose fierce flood
“No barrier ever can hinder.

“It nimbly leaps from rock to rock
“With noisy foaming and boiling;
“Its neck it may break a thousand times,
“Yet on, still on, it keeps toiling.

“If all the expanse of the heavens were mine,
“To Venus the whole I’d surrender;
“I’d give her the sun, I’d give her the moon,
“I’d give her the stars in their splendour.

“I love her indeed with a boundless love,
“Whose flame within me rages;
“O say can this be the fire of hell,
“The glow that will last through all ages?

“O holy Father, Pope Urban, to whom
“To bind and to loose not too much is,
“O save me from the pangs of hell,
“And out of the Evil One’s clutches!--”

His hands the Pope raised sadly on high,
And sigh’d till these words he had spoken:
“Tannhauser, most unhappy knight,
“The charm can never be broken.

“The Devil whom they Venus call
“Is mighty for hurting and harming;
“I’m powerless quite to rescue thee
“From out of his talons so charming.

“And so thy soul must expiate now
Thy fleshly lusts infernal;
Yes, thou art rejected, yes, thou art condemn’d
To suffer hell’s torments eternal.”

3.

The knight Tannhauser roam’d on till his feet
Were sore with his wanderings dreary.
At midnight’s hour he came at length
To the Venus’ mountain, full weary.

Fair Venus awoke from out of her sleep,
And out of her bed sprang lightly,
And clasp’d her fair and lily-white arms
Around her beloved one tightly.

From out of her nose the blood fell fast,
The tears from her eyes descended;
She cover’d the face of her darling knight
With blood and tears closely blended.

The knight lay quietly down in the bed,
And not one word has he spoken;
While Venus went to the kitchen, to make
Some soup, that his fast might be broken.

She gave him soup, and she gave him bread,
She wash’d his wounded feet, too;
She comb’d his rough and matted hair,
And laugh’d with a laugh full sweet, too.

“Tannhauser, dear and noble knight,
“Full long hast thou been wandering;
“O say in what lands hast thou thy time
“So far from hence been squandering?”

“Dear Venus, lovely mistress, in truth
“In Italy I have been staying;
“I’ve had some bus’ness in Rome, and now
“Return without further delaying.

“Rome stands on the Tiber, just at the spot
“Where seven hills are meeting;
“In Rome I also beheld the Pope,--
“The Pope he sends thee his greeting.

“And Florence I saw, when on my return,
“And then through Milan I hasted,
“And next through Switzerland scrambled fast,
“And not one moment wasted.

“And when I travell’d over the Alps,
“The snow already was falling;
“The blue lakes sweetly on me smiled,
“The eagles were circling and calling.

“And when on the Mount St. Gothard I stood,
“Below me snored Germany loudly;
“Beneath the mild sway of thirty-six kings
“It slumber’d calmly and proudly.

“In Swabia I saw the poetical school
“Of dear little simpleton creatures;
“They sat together all ranged in a row,
“With very diminutive features.

“In Dresden I saw a certain dog,
“A sprig of the aristocracy;
“His teeth he had lost, and bark’d and yell’d
“Like one of the vulgar democracy.

“At Weimar, the Muses’ widow’d seat,
“I heard them their sentiments giving;
“They wept and lamented that Goethe was dead,
“And Eckermann still ’mongst the living!

“At Potsdam I heard a very loud cry,--
“I said in amaze: ‘What’s the matter?’--
“’Tis Gans[11] at Berlin, who last century’s tale
“Is reading and making this clatter.’

“At Göttingen knowledge was blossoming still,
“But bringing no fruit to perfection;
“’Twas dark as pitch when I got there at night,
“No light was in any direction.

“In the bridewell at Zell Hanoverians alone
“Were confined; at our next Reformation
“A national bridewell and one common lash
“We must have for the whole German nation.

“At Hamburg, in that excellent town,
“Many terrible rascals dwell still;
“And when I wander’d about the Exchange,
“I fancied myself in Zell still!

“At Hamburg I Altona saw; ’tis a spot
“In a charming situation;
“And all my adventures that there I met
“I’ll tell on another occasion.”[12]

14. ROMANCES.

1. A WOMAN.

They loved each other beyond belief,
The woman a rogue was, the man was a thief;
At each piece of knavery, daily
She fell on the bed, laughing gaily.

In joy and pleasure they pass’d the day,
Upon his bosom all night she lay;
When they carried him off to Old Bailey,
At the window she stood, laughing gaily.

He sent her this message: O come to me,
I yearn, my love, so greatly for thee;
I want thee, I pine, and look palely,--
Her head she but shook, laughing gaily.

At six in the morning they hang’d the knave,
At seven they laid him down in his grave;
At eight on her ears this fell stalely,
And a bumper she drank, laughing gaily.

2. CELEBRATION OF SPRING.

O list to this spring time’s terrible jest!
In savage troops the maidens fair
Are rushing along with fluttering hair,
And howls of anguish and naked breast:--
Adonis! Adonis!

The night falls fast. By torchlight clear
They sadly explore each forest track,
Which mournful answers is echoing back
Of laughter, sobs, sighs, and cries of fear:--
Adonis! Adonis!

That youthful figure, so wondrous fair,
Now lies on the ground all pale and dead;
His blood has dyed each floweret red,
And mournful sighs resound through the air:--
Adonis! Adonis!

3. CHILDE HAROLD.

Slow and weary, moves a dreary
Stout black bark the stream along;
Visors wearing, all-uncaring,
Funeral mutes the benches throng.

’Mongst them dumbly, with his comely
Face upturn’d, the dead bard lies;
Living seeming, toward the beaming
Light of heaven still turn his eyes.

From the water, like a daughter
Of the stream’s voice, comes a sigh,
And with wailing unavailing
’Gainst the bark the waves dash high.

4. THE EXORCISM.

The young Franciscan friar sits
In his cloister silent and lonely;
He reads a magical book, which speaks
Of exorcisms only.

And when the hour of midnight knell’d,
An impulse resistless came o’er him;
The underground spirits with pallid lips
He summon’d to rise up before him:

“Ye spirits! Go, fetch me from out of the grave
The corpse of my mistress cherish’d;
For this one night restore her to life,
Rekindling joys long perish’d.”

The fearful exorcising word
He breathes, and his wish is granted;
The poor dead beauty in grave-clothes white
Appears to his vision enchanted.

Her look is mournful; her ice-cold breast
Her sighs of grief cannot smother;
The dead one sits herself down by the monk,
In silence they gaze on each other.

5. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.

(_The Sun speaks._)

What matter all my looks to thee?
It is the well-known right of the sun
To shed down his rays on ev’ry one;
I beam because ’tis proper for me.

What matter all my looks to thee?
Thy duties bear in mind, poor elf;
Quick, marry, and get a son to thyself,
And so a German worthy be!

I beam because ’tis proper for me.
I wander up and down in the sky,
From mere _ennui_ I peep from on high--
What matter all my looks to thee?

(_The Poet speaks._)

It is in truth my special merit
That I can bear thy radiant light,
Pledge of an endless youthful spirit,
Thou dazzling beauty, blest and bright.

But now mine eyes are growing weary,
On my poor eyelids fast are falling,
Like a black covering, the dreary
Dark shades of night with gloom appalling.

(_Chorus of Monkeys._)

We monkeys, we monkeys,
Like impudent flunkies,
Stare at the sun,
Who can’t prevent its being done.

(_Chorus of Frogs._)

The water is better,
But also much wetter
Than ’tis in the air,
And merrily there
We love to gaze
On the sun’s bright rays.

(_Chorus of Moles._)

How foolish people are to chatter
Of beams and sunny rays bewitching
With us, they but produce an itching
We scratch it and so end the matter.

(_A Glow-worm speaks._)

How boastingly the sun displays
His very fleeting daily rays!
But I’m not so immodest quite,
And yet I’m an important light,--
I mean by night, I mean by night!

6. THE EVIL STAR.

The star, after beaming so brightly,
From the sky fell, a vision unsightly,
What is the love by poets sung?
A star amid a heap of dung.

Like a poor mangy dog, when he’s dying,
Beneath all this filth it is lying;
Shrill crows the cock, loud grunts the sow,
And wallows in the fearful slough.

In the garden O had I descended,
By fair flowerets lovingly tended,
Where I oft yearn’d to find my doom,
A virgin death, a fragrant tomb!

7. ANNO 1829.

Give me a wide and noble field
Where I may perish decently!
O let me in this narrow world
Of shops be not condemned to die!

They eat full well, they drink full well,
And revel in their mole-like bliss;
Their magnanimity’s as great
As any poor-box opening is.

Cigars they carry in their mouths,
Their hands we in their breeches view,
And their digestive powers are great,--
O could we but digest them too!

They trade in every spice that grows
Upon the earth, yet we can trace,
Despite their spices, in the air
The odour of a grovelling race.

Could I some great transgressions, yes,
Colossal bloody crimes but see,--
Aught but this virtue flat and tame,
This solvent strict morality!

Ye clouds on high, O bear me hence,
To some far spot without delay!
To Lapland or to Africa,
To Pomerania e’en--away!

O bear me hence!--They hearken not--
The clouds on high so prudent are!
They fly above this town, to seek
With trembling haste some region far.

8. ANNO 1839.

Dear distant Germany, how often
I weep when I remember thee!
Gay France my sorrow cannot soften,
Her merry race gives pain to me.

In Paris, in this witty region,
’Tis cold dry reason that now reigns;
O bells of folly and religion,
How sweetly sound at home your strains!

Courteous the men! Their salutation
I yet return with feelings sad;
The rudeness shown in every station
In my own country made me glad!

Smiling the women! but their clatter,
Like millwheels, never seems to cease;
The Germans (not to mince the matter)
Prefer I, who lie down in peace.

And all things here with restless passion
Keep whirling, like some madden’d dream;
With us, they move in jog-trot fashion,
And well-nigh void of motion seem.

Methinks I hear the distant ringing
Of the soft bugle’s notes serene;
The watchman’s songs I hear them singing,
With Philomel’s sweet strains between.

At home the bard, a happy vagrant
In Schilda’s oak woods loved to rove;
From moonbeams fair and violets fragrant
My tender verses there I wove.

9. AT DAWN.

On the Faubourg Saint Marçeau
Lay the mist this very morning,
Mist of autumn, heavy, thick,
And a white-hued night resembling.

Wandering through this white-hued night,
I beheld before me gliding
An enchanting female form
Which the moon’s sweet light resembled.

Yes, she was, like moonlight sweet,
Lightly floating, tender, graceful;
Such a slender shape of limbs
I had here in France ne’er witness’d.

Was it Luna’s self perchance,
Who with some young dear and handsome
Fond Endymion had to-day
In th’ Quartier Latin been ling’ring?

On my way home thus I thought:
Wherefore fled she when she saw me?
Did the Goddess think that I
Was perchance the Sun-God Phœbus?

10. SIR OLAVE.

I.