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The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 07
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Be one, what time the trump shall sound.
Cleanse your souls by fervent prayer,
That so the Lord may find them fair
When He shall make His questioning round,
The Cross be still your pride,
Your banner and your guide
In the battle!
Who in the field
Their fealty yield
To God, victorious weapons wield.
Look Thou down from heaven above,
Thou Whom the angels praise and love—
Be gracious to our German land!
Speak from the clouds with thunder-voice;
Princes and people of Thy choice,
Unite them with a mighty hand.
Be Thou our fortress-tower,
Bring us through danger's hour.
Hallelujah!
Thine is today
And shall alway
Kingdom, and power, and glory stay!
* * * * *
THE CALL OF THE ROAD[51 - Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] (1841)
Sweet May it is come, and the trees are in bloom—
Who wills may sit listless with sorrow at home!
As the clouds go a-roving up there in the sky,
So away for a life of adventure am I!
Kind father, dear mother, God be with you now!
Who knows what my fortune is waiting to show?
There is many a road that I never have gone,
There is many a wine that I never have known.
Then up with the sun, and away where it leads,
High over the mountains and down through the meads!
The brooks they are singing, the trees hear the call;
My heart's like a lark and sings out with them all.
And at night, when I come to a cozy old nest,
"Mine host, now a bottle—and make it your best!
And you, merry fiddler, tune up for a song,
A song of my sweetheart—I'll help it along!"
If I come to no inn, then my slumber I'll snatch
'Neath the kindly blue sky, with the stars to keep watch.
The trees with their rustling will lull me to sleep;
Dawn's kisses will wake me, and up I shall leap.
Then ho! for the road, and the life that I love,
And God's pure air to cool your hot brow as you rove.
The heart sings for joy in the sun's merry beams—
All, wherefore so lovely, wide world of my dreams?
* * * * *
AUTUMN DAYS[52 - Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] (1845)
Sunny days of the autumn,
Days that shall make me whole,
When a balm for wounds that were bleeding
Drops silently on the soul!
Now seem the hours to be brooding
In still, beneficent rest,
And with a quieter motion
Heaves now the laboring breast.
To rest from the world's endeavor,
To build on the soul's deep base—
That is my only craving,
In the stillness of love to gaze.
O'er the hills, through the dales I wander,
Where the shy sweet streamlets call,
Following each clear sunbeam,
Whether scorching or kind it fall.
There where the leaves are turning,
I harken with reverent ear;
All that is growing or dying,
Fading or blooming, I hear.
Blissful I learn my lesson—
How through the world's wide sweep
Matter and spirit together
Their concord eternal keep.
What blows in the rustling forest,
Takes life from the sun and rain,
Is a symbol of truth immortal
To the soul that can read it plain.
Each tiniest plant that blossoms
With the perfume of its birth
Cleanse your souls by fervent prayer,
That so the Lord may find them fair
When He shall make His questioning round,
The Cross be still your pride,
Your banner and your guide
In the battle!
Who in the field
Their fealty yield
To God, victorious weapons wield.
Look Thou down from heaven above,
Thou Whom the angels praise and love—
Be gracious to our German land!
Speak from the clouds with thunder-voice;
Princes and people of Thy choice,
Unite them with a mighty hand.
Be Thou our fortress-tower,
Bring us through danger's hour.
Hallelujah!
Thine is today
And shall alway
Kingdom, and power, and glory stay!
* * * * *
THE CALL OF THE ROAD[51 - Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] (1841)
Sweet May it is come, and the trees are in bloom—
Who wills may sit listless with sorrow at home!
As the clouds go a-roving up there in the sky,
So away for a life of adventure am I!
Kind father, dear mother, God be with you now!
Who knows what my fortune is waiting to show?
There is many a road that I never have gone,
There is many a wine that I never have known.
Then up with the sun, and away where it leads,
High over the mountains and down through the meads!
The brooks they are singing, the trees hear the call;
My heart's like a lark and sings out with them all.
And at night, when I come to a cozy old nest,
"Mine host, now a bottle—and make it your best!
And you, merry fiddler, tune up for a song,
A song of my sweetheart—I'll help it along!"
If I come to no inn, then my slumber I'll snatch
'Neath the kindly blue sky, with the stars to keep watch.
The trees with their rustling will lull me to sleep;
Dawn's kisses will wake me, and up I shall leap.
Then ho! for the road, and the life that I love,
And God's pure air to cool your hot brow as you rove.
The heart sings for joy in the sun's merry beams—
All, wherefore so lovely, wide world of my dreams?
* * * * *
AUTUMN DAYS[52 - Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] (1845)
Sunny days of the autumn,
Days that shall make me whole,
When a balm for wounds that were bleeding
Drops silently on the soul!
Now seem the hours to be brooding
In still, beneficent rest,
And with a quieter motion
Heaves now the laboring breast.
To rest from the world's endeavor,
To build on the soul's deep base—
That is my only craving,
In the stillness of love to gaze.
O'er the hills, through the dales I wander,
Where the shy sweet streamlets call,
Following each clear sunbeam,
Whether scorching or kind it fall.
There where the leaves are turning,
I harken with reverent ear;
All that is growing or dying,
Fading or blooming, I hear.
Blissful I learn my lesson—
How through the world's wide sweep
Matter and spirit together
Their concord eternal keep.
What blows in the rustling forest,
Takes life from the sun and rain,
Is a symbol of truth immortal
To the soul that can read it plain.
Each tiniest plant that blossoms
With the perfume of its birth
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Последний отзыв
Книга довольно хорошо написана в виде рассказов старого человека молодому парню, основанных на событиях его реальной жизни, охватывающей период с нача...
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