The poems of Heine; Complete. Heinrich Heine

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СКАЧАТЬ “And Charles Moor especially,

       “Were my patterns made by me.

      “Like those mighty heroes, I

       “Fell in love, I’ll not deny,

       “And the fairest woman most

       “Haunted me like any ghost.

      “Sighing, cooing like a dove,

       “I was driven mad with love,

       “And my fingers, by ill-luck,

       “In my neighbour’s pocket stuck.

      “But the constable abused me,

       “And most cruelly ill-used me,

       “And I sought to hide my grief

       “In my neighbour’s handkerchief.

      “Then their arms policemen placed

       “Quietly around my waist,

       “And the bridewell then and there

       “Took me ’neath its tender care.

      “There, with thoughts of love quite full,

       “Long time sat I, spinning wool,

       “Till Rinaldo’s ghost one day

       “Came and took my soul away.”

      In right merry chorus the spirits then laughed;

       A third, all-berouged and bedizen’d, stepp’d aft:

      “As monarch I ruled on the stage,

       “The part of the lover played I,

       “Oft bellowed ‘Ye Gods,’ in a rage,

       “Breath’d many a heart-rending sigh.

      “I play’d Mortimer’s part best, methinks,

       “Maria was always so fair;

       “But despite the most natural winks,

       “She never gave heed to my prayer.

      “Once when I, with desperate look,

       “‘Maria, thou holy one!’ cried,

       “The dagger I hastily took,

       “And plunged it too deep in my side.”

      In right merry chorus the spirits then laugh’d;

       A fourth in a white flowing garment stepp’d aft:

      “Ex cathedrâ kept prating the learned professor, “He prated, and I went to sleep all the while; “Yet my pleasure had certainly not been the lesser, “Had I revell’d instead in his daughter’s sweet smile.

      “From the window she oft to me tenderly beckon’d,

       “That flower of flowers, my life’s only light;

       “Yet that flower of flowers was pluck’d in a second

       “By a stupid old blockhead, an opulent wight.

      “Then cursed I all women and rogues of high station,

       “And mingled some poisonous herbs in my wine,

       “And held with old Death a jollification,

       “While he said: ‘Your good health! from this moment you’re mine!’”

      In right merry chorus the spirits then laugh’d;

       A fifth, with a rope round his neck, next stepp’d aft:

      “There boasted and bragg’d a count, over his wine,

       “Of his daughter so fair, and his jewels so fine.

       “What care I, Sir Count, for thy jewels so fine?

       “Far rather would I that thy daughter were mine!

      “’Tis true under bar, lock, and key they both lay,

       “And the Count many servants retain’d in his pay

       “What cared I for servants, for bar, lock, or key?

       “Up the rungs of the ladder I mounted with glee.

      “To my mistress’s window I climb’d with good cheer,

       “Where curses beneath me saluted my ear.

       “‘Stop, stop, my fine fellow! I too must be there,

       “I’m likewise in love with the jewels so fair.’

      “Thus jested the Count, while he grappled me tight,

       “His servants came round me with shouts of delight.

       “‘Pooh, nonsense, you rascals! No robber am I,

       “I but came for my mistress—’tis really no lie.’

      “In vain was my talking, in vain what I said,

       “They got ready the rope, threw it over my head,

       “And the sun, when he rose, with amazement extreme

       “Found me hanging, alas, from the gallows’ high beam!”

      “In right merry chorus the spirits then laugh’d;

       “A sixth, with his head in his hand, next stepp’d aft;

      “Love’s torments made me seek the chace;

       “Rifle in hand, I roam’d apace.

       “Down from the tree, with hollow scoff,

       “The raven cried: ‘head off! head off!’

      “O, could I only see a dove,

       “I’d take it home for my sweet love!

       “Thus thought I, and midst bush and tree

       “With sportsman’s eye sought carefully.

      “What billing’s that? What gentle cooing?

       “It sounds like turtle doves’ soft wooing.

       “I stole up slily, cock’d my gun,

       “And, lo, my own sweet love was one!

      “It was indeed my dove, my bride;

       “A stranger clasp’d her waist СКАЧАТЬ