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The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 07
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Long that echo from the ledge
In my ear kept tingling.
* * * * *
TO THE BELOVED FROM AFAR[19 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1838)
His sweet rose here oversea
I must gather sadly;
Which, beloved, unto thee
I would bring how gladly!
But alas! if o'er the foam
I this flower should carry,
It would fade ere I could come;
Roses may not tarry.
Farther let no mortal fare
Who would be a wooer,
Than unwithered he may bear
Blushing roses to her,
Or than nightingale may fly
For her nesting grasses,
Or than with the west wind's sigh
Her soft warbling passes.
* * * * *
THE THREE GIPSIES[20 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.]
Three gipsy men I saw one day
Stretched out on the grass together,
As wearily o'er the sandy way
My wagon brushed the heather.
The first of the three was fiddling there
In the glow of evening pallid,
Playing a wild and passionate air,
The tune of some gipsy ballad.
From the second's pipe the smoke-wreaths curled,
He watched them melt at his leisure.
So full of content, it seemed the world
Had naught to add to his pleasure.
And what of the third?—He was fast asleep,
His harp to a bough confided;
The breezes across the strings did sweep,
A dream o'er his heart-strings glided.
The garb of all was worn and frayed,
With tatters grotesquely mended;
But flouting the world, and undismayed,
The three with fate contended.
They showed me how, by three-fold scoff,
When cares of life perplex us,
To smoke, or sleep, or fiddle them off,
And scorn the ills that vex us.
I passed them, but my gaze for long
Dwelt on the trio surly—
Their dark bronze features sharp and strong,
Their loose hair black and curly.
* * * * *
MY HEART[21 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1844)
Sleepless night, the rushing rain,
While my heart with ceaseless pain
Hears the mournful past subsiding
Or the uncertain future striding.
Heart, 'tis fatal thus to harken,
Let not fear thy courage darken,
Though the past be all regretting
And the future helpless fretting.
Onward, let what's mortal die.
Is the storm near, beat thou high.
Who came safe o'er Galilee
Makes the voyage now in thee.
* * * * *
EDUARD MÖRIKE
AN ERROR CHANCED[22 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1824)
An error chanced in the moonlight garden
Of a once inviolate love.
Shuddering I came on an outworn deceit,
And with sorrowing look, yet cruel,
Bade I the slender
Enchanting maiden
Leave me and wander far.
Alas! her lofty forehead
Was bowed, for she loved me well;
In my ear kept tingling.
* * * * *
TO THE BELOVED FROM AFAR[19 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1838)
His sweet rose here oversea
I must gather sadly;
Which, beloved, unto thee
I would bring how gladly!
But alas! if o'er the foam
I this flower should carry,
It would fade ere I could come;
Roses may not tarry.
Farther let no mortal fare
Who would be a wooer,
Than unwithered he may bear
Blushing roses to her,
Or than nightingale may fly
For her nesting grasses,
Or than with the west wind's sigh
Her soft warbling passes.
* * * * *
THE THREE GIPSIES[20 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.]
Three gipsy men I saw one day
Stretched out on the grass together,
As wearily o'er the sandy way
My wagon brushed the heather.
The first of the three was fiddling there
In the glow of evening pallid,
Playing a wild and passionate air,
The tune of some gipsy ballad.
From the second's pipe the smoke-wreaths curled,
He watched them melt at his leisure.
So full of content, it seemed the world
Had naught to add to his pleasure.
And what of the third?—He was fast asleep,
His harp to a bough confided;
The breezes across the strings did sweep,
A dream o'er his heart-strings glided.
The garb of all was worn and frayed,
With tatters grotesquely mended;
But flouting the world, and undismayed,
The three with fate contended.
They showed me how, by three-fold scoff,
When cares of life perplex us,
To smoke, or sleep, or fiddle them off,
And scorn the ills that vex us.
I passed them, but my gaze for long
Dwelt on the trio surly—
Their dark bronze features sharp and strong,
Their loose hair black and curly.
* * * * *
MY HEART[21 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1844)
Sleepless night, the rushing rain,
While my heart with ceaseless pain
Hears the mournful past subsiding
Or the uncertain future striding.
Heart, 'tis fatal thus to harken,
Let not fear thy courage darken,
Though the past be all regretting
And the future helpless fretting.
Onward, let what's mortal die.
Is the storm near, beat thou high.
Who came safe o'er Galilee
Makes the voyage now in thee.
* * * * *
EDUARD MÖRIKE
AN ERROR CHANCED[22 - Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.] (1824)
An error chanced in the moonlight garden
Of a once inviolate love.
Shuddering I came on an outworn deceit,
And with sorrowing look, yet cruel,
Bade I the slender
Enchanting maiden
Leave me and wander far.
Alas! her lofty forehead
Was bowed, for she loved me well;
