The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01. Коллектив авторов

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        For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,

        So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!

        Tho' talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear,

        Remember then, ERGO BIBAMUS!

        In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,

        With its sound befitting each bosom is stirred,

        And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,

        A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS!

        I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,

        And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;

        So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,

        While I helped myself, thinking: BIBAMUS!

        And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,

        Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,

        Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,

        In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS!

        I am called by my fate far away from each friend;

        Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS!

        With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,

        So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!

        Whate'er to his treasure the niggard may add,

        Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,

        For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,

        So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!

        And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?

        I thought but of: ERGO BIBAMUS!

        'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,

        So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!

        For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,

        Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,

        And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,

        While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS.

        A child refused to go betimes

        To church like other people;

        He roamed abroad, when rang the chimes

        On Sundays from the steeple.

        His mother said: "Loud rings the bell,

        Its voice ne'er think of scorning;

        Unless thou wilt behave thee well,

        'Twill fetch thee without warning."

        The child then thought: "High over head

        The bell is safe suspended—"

        So to the fields he straightway sped

        As if 'twas school-time ended.

        The bell now ceased as bell to ring,

        Roused by the mother's twaddle;

        But soon ensued a dreadful thing!—

        The bell begins to waddle.

        It waddles fast, though strange it seem;

        The child, with trembling wonder,

        Runs off, and flies, as in a dream;

        The bell would draw him under.

        He finds the proper time at last,

        And straightway nimbly rushes

        To church, to chapel, hastening fast

        Through pastures, plains, and bushes.

        Each Sunday and each feast as well,

        His late disaster heeds he;

        The moment that he hears the bell,

        No other summons needs he.

        Once through the forest

        Alone I went;

        To seek for nothing

        My thoughts were bent.

        I saw i' the shadow

        A flower stand there;

        As stars it glisten'd,

        As eyes 'twas fair.

        I sought to pluck it,—

        It gently said:

        "Shall I be gather'd

        Only to fade?"

        With all its roots

        I dug it with care,

        And took it home

        To my garden fair.

        In silent corner

        Soon it was set;

        There grows it ever,

        There blooms it yet.

        Locks of brown, still bind your captive

        In the circle of her face!

        I, beloved sinuous tresses,

        Naught possess that's worth your grace—

        But a heart whose love enduring

        Swells in youthful fervor yet:

        Snow and mists envelop Etna,

        Making men the fire forget.

        Yonder mountain's pride so stately

        Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow;

        And its spell once more bids Hatem

        Thrill of spring and summer know.

        Once more fill the glass, the flagon!

        Let me drink to my desire.

        If she find a heap of ashes,

        Say, "He perished in her fire!"

        Can it be, O star transcendent,

        That I fold thee to my breast?

        Now I know, what depths of anguish

        May in parting be expressed.

        Yes, 'tis thou, of all my blisses

        Lovely, loving partner—thou!

        Mindful of my bygone sorrows,

        E'en the present awes me now.

        When the world in first conception

        Lay in God's eternal mind,

        In creative power delighting

        He the primal hour designed.

        When СКАЧАТЬ