The poems of Heine; Complete. Heinrich Heine

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СКАЧАТЬ Yet I did—strange contradiction!

       How I did, ne’er seek to know.

      9.

      With rose and cypress and tinsel gay,

       I fain would adorn in a charming way

       This book, as though a coffin it were,

       And in it my olden songs inter.

      O, could I but bury love also there!

       On love’s grave grows rest’s floweret fair;

       ’Tis there ’tis pluck’d in its sweetest bloom—

       For me ’twill not blossom till in my tomb.

      Here now are the songs that formerly rose,

       As wild as the lava from Etna that flows,

       From out the depths of my feelings true,

       And glittering sparks around them threw!

      Like corpses now lie they, all silent and dumb,

       And cold and pallid as mist they’ve become;

       But the olden glow their revival will bring

       When the spirit of love waves o’er them its wing.

      In my heart a presentiment loudly cries:

       The spirit of love will over them rise:

       This book will hereafter come to thy hand,

       My sweetest love, in a distant land.

      Then the spell on my song at an end will be,

       The pallid letters will gaze on thee,

       Imploringly gaze on thy beauteous eyes,

       And whisper with sadness and loving sighs.

3. ROMANCES.

       Table of Contents

      1. THE MOURNFUL ONE.

      Every heart with pain is smitten

       When they see the stripling pale,

       Who upon his face bears written

       Grief and sorrow’s mournful tale.

      Breezes with compassion lightly

       Fan his burning brow the while,

       And his bosom many a sprightly

       Damsel fair would fain beguile.

      From the city’s ceaseless bustle

       To the wood for peace he flies.

       Merrily the leaves there rustle,

       Merrier still the bird’s songs rise.

      But the merry song soon ceases,

       Sadly rustle leaf and tree,

       When he, while his grief increases,

       Nears the forest mournfully.

      2. THE MOUNTAIN ECHO.

      At sad slow pace across the vale

       There rode a horseman brave:

       “Ah! travel I now to my mistress’s arms,

       Or but to the darksome grave?”

       The echo answer gave:

       “The darksome grave!”

      And farther rode the horseman on,

       With sighs his thoughts express’d:

       “If I thus early must go to my grave,

       Yet in the grave is rest.”

       The answering voice confess’d:

       “The grave is rest!”

      Adown the horseman’s furrow’d cheek

       A tear fell on his breast:

       “If rest I can only find in the grave,

       For me the grave is best.”

       The hollow voice confess’d:

“The grave is best!”

      3. THE TWO BROTHERS.

      On the mountain summit darkling

       Lies the castle, veil’d in night;

       Lights are in the valley sparkling,

       Clashing swords are gleaming bright.

      Brothers ’tis, who in fierce duel

       Fight, with wrath to fury fann’d;

       Tell me why these brothers cruel

       Strive thus madly, sword in hand?

      By the eyes of Countess Laura

       Were they thus in strife array’d;

       Both with glowing love adore her—

       Her, the noble, beauteous maid.

      Unto which now of the brothers

       Is her heart the most inclined?

       She her secret feelings smothers—

       Out, then, sword, the truth to find!

      And they fight with rage despairing,

       Blows exchange with savage might;

       Take good heed, ye gallants daring—

       Mischief walks abroad by night.

      Woe, O woe, ye brothers cruel!

       Woe, O woe, thou vale abhorr’d!

       Both fall victims in the duel,

       Falling on each other’s sword.

      Races are to dust converted,

       Many centuries have flown,

       And the castle, now deserted,

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