Poems by John Hay Part 17

In pa.s.sion's stress--the battles strife, The desert's lurking harms, Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life Protect thy men-at-arms!_

Translations.

The Way to Heaven

From the German.

One day the Sultan, grand and grim, Ordered the Mufti brought to him.

"Now let thy wisdom solve for me The question I shall put to thee.

"The different tribes beneath my sway Four several sects of priests obey; Now tell me which of all the four Is on the path to Heaven's door."

The Sultan spake, and then was dumb.

The Mufti looked about the room, And straight made answer to his lord.

Fearing the bowstring at each word:

"Thou, G.o.dlike in thy lofty birth, Who art our Allah upon earth, Illume me with thy favoring ray, And I will answer as I may.

"Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, I see there are four doors in all; And through all four thy slaves may gaze Upon the brightness of thy face.

"That I came hither safely through Was to thy gracious message due, And, blinded by thy splendor's flame, I cannot tell the way I came."

After Heine: Countess Jutta

From the German of Heinrich Heine.

The Countess Jutta pa.s.sed over the Rhine In a light canoe by the moon's pale s.h.i.+ne.

The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: "Seest thou not there where the water breaks Seven corpses swim In the moonlight dim?

So sorrowful swim the dead!

"They were seven knights full of fire and youth, They sank on my heart and swore me truth.

I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, I had them bound, And tenderly drowned!

So sorrowful swim the dead!"

The merry Countess laughed outright!

It rang so wild in the startled night!

Up to the waist the dead men rise And stretch lean fingers to the skies.

They nod and stare With a gla.s.sy glare!

So sorrowful swim the dead!

A Blessing.

AFTER HEINE.

When I look on thee and feel how dear, How pure, and how fair thou art, Into my eyes there steals a tear, And a shadow mingled of love and fear Creeps slowly over my heart.

And my very hands feel as if they would lay Themselves on thy fair young head, And pray the good G.o.d to keep thee alway As good and lovely, as pure and gay,-- When I and my wild love are dead.

To the Young.

AFTER HEINE.

Letyour feet not falter, your course not alter By golden apples, till victory's won!

The sword's sharp clangor, the dart's shrill anger, Swerve not the hero thundering on.

A bold beginning is half the winning, An Alexander makes worlds his fee.

No long debating! The Queens are waiting In his pavilion on bended knee.

Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing, He mounts old Darius' bed and throne.

O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing!

O drunk death-triumph in Babylon!

The Golden Calf.

AFTER HEINE.

Double flutes and horns resound As they dance the idol round; Jacob's daughters, madly reeling, Whirl about the golden calf.

Hear them laugh!

Kettledrums and laughter pealing.

Dresses tucked above their knees, Maids of n.o.blest families, In the swift dance blindly wheeling, Circle in their wild career Round the steer,-- Kettledrums and laughter pealing.

Aaron's self, the guardian gray Of the faith, at last gives way, Madness all his senses stealing; Prances in his high priest's coat Like a goat,-- Kettledrums and laughter pealing.