The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 5

You lovely fisher-maiden, Bring now the boat to land; Come here and sit beside me, We'll prattle hand in hand.

Your head lay on my bosom, Nor be afraid of me; Do you not trust all fearless Daily the great wild sea?

My heart is like the sea, dear, Has storm, and ebb, and flow, And many purest pearl-gems Within its dim depth glow.

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My child, we were two children, Small, merry by childhood's law; We used to creep to the henhouse, And hide ourselves in the straw.

We crowed like c.o.c.ks, and whenever The pa.s.sers near us drew-- "c.o.c.k-a-doodle!" They thought 'Twas a real c.o.c.k that crew.

The boxes about our courtyard We carpeted to our mind, And lived there both together-- Kept house in a n.o.ble kind.

The neighbor's old cat often Came to pay us a visit; We made her a bow and courtesy, Each with a compliment in it.

After her health we asked, Our care and regard to evince-- (We have made the very same speeches To many an old cat since).

We also sat and wisely Discoursed, as old folks do, Complaining how all went better In those good old times we knew--

How love, and truth, and believing Had left the world to itself, And how so dear was the coffee, And how so rare was the pelf.

The children's games are over, The rest is over with youth-- The world, the good games, the good times, The belief, and the love, and the truth.

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E'en as a lovely flower, So fair, so pure thou art; I gaze on thee, and sadness Comes stealing o'er my heart.

My hands I fain had folded Upon thy soft brown hair, Praying that G.o.d may keep thee So lovely, pure, and fair.

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I would that my love and its sadness Might a single word convey, The joyous breezes should bear it, And merrily waft it away.

They should waft it to thee, beloved, This soft and wailful word, At every hour thou shouldst hear it, Where'er thou art 'twould be heard.

And when in the night's first slumber Thine eyes scarce closing seem, Still should my word pursue thee Into thy deepest dream.

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The shades of the summer evening lie On the forest and meadows green; The golden moon s.h.i.+nes in the azure sky Through balm-breathing air serene.

The cricket is chirping the brooklet near, In the water a something stirs, And the wanderer can in the stillness hear A plash and a sigh through the furze.

There all by herself the fairy bright Is bathing down in the stream; Her arms and throat, bewitching and white, In the moons.h.i.+ne glance and gleam.

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I know not what evil is coming, But my heart feels sad and cold; A song in my head keeps humming, A tale from the times of old.

The air is fresh and it darkles, And smoothly flows the Rhine; The peak of the mountain sparkles In the fading sunset-s.h.i.+ne.

The loveliest wonderful maiden On high is sitting there, With golden jewels braiden, And she combs her golden hair.

With a golden comb sits combing, And ever the while sings she A marvelous song through the gloaming Of magical melody.

It hath caught the boatman, and bound him In the spell of a wild, sad love; He sees not the rocks around him, He sees only her above.

The waves through the pa.s.s keep swinging, But boatman or boat is none; And this with her mighty singing The Lorelei hath done.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROCKY COAST _From the Painting by Ludwig von Hofmann._]

TWILIGHT[36] (1825-26)

By the dim sea-sh.o.r.e Lonely I sat, and thought-afflicted.

The sun sank low, and sinking he shed Rose and vermilion upon the waters, And the white foaming waves, Urged on by the tide, Foamed and murmured yet nearer and nearer-- A curious jumble of whispering and wailing, A soft rippling laughter and sobbing and sighing, And in between all a low lullaby singing.

Methought I heard ancient forgotten legends, The world-old sweet stories, Which once, as a boy, I heard from my playmates, When, of a summer's evening, We crouched down to tell stories On the stones of the doorstep, With small listening hearts, And bright curious eyes; While the big grown-up girls Were sitting opposite At flowery and fragrant windows, Their rosy faces Smiling and moons.h.i.+ne-illumined.

HAIL TO THE SEA[37] (1825-26)

Thalatta! Thalatta!

Hail to thee, thou eternal sea!

Hail to thee, ten thousand times, hail!

With rejoicing heart I bid thee welcome, As once, long ago, did welcome thee Ten thousand Greek hearts-- Hards.h.i.+p-battling, homesick-yearning, World-renowned Greek hearts.

The billows surged, They foamed and murmured, The sun poured down, as in haste, Flickering ripples of rosy light; Long strings of frightened sea-gulls Flutter away shrill screaming; War-horses trample, and s.h.i.+elds clash loudly, And far resounds the triumphant cry: Thalatta! Thalatta!

Hail to thee, thou eternal sea!

Like accents of home thy waters are whispering, And dreams of childhood l.u.s.trous I see Through thy limpid and crystalline wave, Calling to mind the dear old memories Of dear and delightful toys, Of all the glittering Christmas presents, Of all the red-branched forests of coral, The pearls, the goldfish and bright-colored sh.e.l.ls, Which thou dost hide mysteriously Deep down in thy clear house of crystal.

Oh, how have I languished in dreary exile!

Like unto a withered flower In the botanist's capsule of tin, My heart lay dead in my breast.

Methought I was prisoned a long sad winter, A sick man kept in a darkened chamber; And now I suddenly leave it, And outside meets me the dazzling Spring, Tenderly verdant and sun-awakened; And rustling trees shed snowy petals, And tender young flowers gaze on me With their bright fragrant eyes, And the air is full of laughter and gladness, And rich with the breath of blossoms, And in the blue sky the birds are singing-- Thalatta! Thalatta!

Oh, my brave Anabasis-heart!

How often, ah! how sadly often Wast thou pressed hard by the North's fair Barbarians!

From large and conquering eyes They shot forth burning arrows; With crooked words as sharp as a rapier They threatened to pierce my bosom; With cuneiform angular missives they battered My poor stunned brains; In vain I held out my s.h.i.+eld for protection, The arrows hissed and the blows rained down, And hard pressed I was pushed to the sea By the North's fair Barbarians-- And, breathing freely, I greet the sea, The sea my deliverer, the sea my friend-- Thalatta! Thalatta!

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLAY OF THE WAVES _From the Painting by Arnold Bocklin_]

IN THE HARBOR[38] (1825-26)

Happy is he who hath reached the safe harbor, Leaving behind him the stormy wild ocean, And now sits cosy and warm In the good old Town-Cellar of Bremen.