LIEDER, IV.
LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO, XXXVIII.
“ “ XLI.
“ “ XLV.
“ “ LXIV.
DIE HEIMKEHR, LX.
“ LXII.
DIE NORDSEE, FIRST CYCLE, XII.

LIEDER.

IV.

Thy little hand lay on my bosom, dear:
What a knocking in that little chamber!—dost hear?
There dwelleth a carpenter evil, and he
Is hard at work on a coffin for me.

He hammers and knocks by night and by day;
‘Tis long since he drove all my sleep away:
Ah, haste thee, carpenter, busy keep,
That I the sooner may go to sleep!

LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.

XXXVIII.

The phantoms of times forgotten
Arise from out their grave,
And show me how once in thy presence
I lived the life it gave.

In the day I wandered dreaming,
Through the streets with unsteady foot;
The people looked at me in wonder,
I was so mournful and mute.

At night, then it was better,
For empty was the town;
I and my shadow together
Walked speechless up and down.

My way, with echoing footstep,
Over the bridge I took;
The moon broke out of the waters,
And gave me a meaning look.

I stopped before thy dwelling,
And gazed, and gazed again—
Stood staring up at thy window,
My heart was in such pain.

I know that thou from thy window
Didst often look downward—and
Sawest me, there in the moonlight,
A motionless pillar stand.

LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.

XLI.

I dreamt of the daughter of a king,
With white cheeks tear-bewetted;
We sat ‘neath the lime tree’s leavy ring,
In love’s embraces netted.

“I would not have thy father’s throne,
His crown or his golden sceptre;
I want my lovely princess alone—
From Fate that so long hath kept her.”

“That cannot be,” she said to me:
“I lie in the grave uncheerly;
And only at night I come to thee,
Because I love thee so dearly.”

LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.

XLV.

In the sunny summer morning
Into the garden I come;
The flowers are whispering and talking,
But for me, I wander dumb.

The flowers are whispering and talking;
They pity my look so wan:
“Thou must not be cross with our sister,
Thou sorrowful, pale-faced man!”

LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.

LXIV.

Night lay upon mine eyelids;
Upon my mouth lay lead;
With rigid brain and bosom,
I lay among the dead.

How long it was I know not
That sleep oblivion gave;
I wakened up, and, listening,
Heard a knocking at my grave.

“Tis time to rise up, Henry!
The eternal day draws on;
The dead are all arisen—
The eternal joy’s begun.”

“My love, I cannot raise me;
For I have lost my sight;
My eyes with bitter weeping
They are extinguished quite.”

“From thy dear eyelids, Henry,
I’ll kiss the night away;
Thou shalt behold the angels,
And Heaven’s superb display.”

“My love, I cannot raise me;
Still bleeds my bosom gored,
Where thou heart-deep didst stab me
With a keen-pointed word.”

“Soft I will lay it, Henry,
My hand soft on thy heart;
And that will stop its bleeding
And soothe at once the smart.”

“My love, I cannot raise me—
My head is bleeding too;
When thou wast stolen from me
I shot it through and through!”

“I with my tresses, Henry,
Will stop the fountain red;
Press back again the blood-stream,
And heal thy wounded head.”

She begged so sweetly, dearly,
I could no more say no;
I tried, I strove to raise me,
And to my darling go.

Then the wounds again burst open;
With torrent force outbrake
From head and breast the blood-stream,
And, lo, I came awake!

DIE HEIMKEHR.

LX.

They have company this evening,
And the house is full of light;
Up there at the shining window
Moves a shadowy form in white.

Thou seest me not—in the darkness
I stand here below, apart;
Yet less, ah less thou seest
Into my gloomy heart!

My gloomy heart it loves thee,
Loves thee in every spot:
It breaks, it bleeds, it shudders—But
into it thou seest not!

LXII.

Diamonds hast thou, and pearls,
And all by which men lay store;
And of eyes thou hast the fairest—
Darling, what wouldst thou more?

Upon thine eyes so lovely
Have I a whole army-corps
Of undying songs composed—
Dearest, what wouldst thou more?

And with thine eyes so lovely
Thou hast tortured me very sore,
And hast ruined me altogether—
Darling, what wouldst thou more?

DIE NORDSEE
FIRST CYCLE.

XII.

PEACE.

[Footnote: I have here used rimes although the original has none. With
notions of translating severer now than when, many years ago, I attempted
this poem, I should not now take such a liberty. In a few other points
also the translation is not quite close enough to please me; but it must
stand.]

High in heaven the sun was glowing,
White cloud-waves were round him flowing;
The sea was still and grey.
Thinking in dreams, by the helm I lay:
Half waking, half in slumber, then
Saw I Christ, the Saviour of men.
In undulating garments white
He walked in giant shape and height
Over land and sea.
High in the heaven up towered his head;
His hands in blessing forth he spread
Over land and sea.
And for a heart, in his breast
He bore the sun; there did it rest.
The red, flaming heart of the Lord
Out its gracious radiance poured,
Its fair and love-caressing light
With illuminating and warming might
Over land and sea.

Sounds of solemn bells that go
Through the air to and fro,
Drew, like swans in rosy traces,
With soft, solemn, stately graces,
The gliding ship to the green shore—
Peopled, for many a century hoar,
By men who dwell at rest in a mighty
Far-spreading and high-towered city.

Oh, wonder of peace, how still was the town!
The hollow tumult had all gone down
Of the babbling and stifling trades;
And through each clean and echoing street
Walked men and women, and youths and maids,
White clothes wearing,
Palm branches bearing;
And ever and always when two did meet,
They gazed with eyes that plain did tell
They understood each other well;
And trembling, in self-renouncement and love,
Each a kiss on the other’s forehead laid,
And looked up to the Saviour’s sunheart above,
Which, in joyful atoning, its red blood rayed
Down upon all; and the people said,
From hearts with threefold gladness blest,
Lauded be Jesus Christ!