Thou giv'st me life, and liberty, and love,
And all I now admire,

And from the winter of my soul dost move
The deep enthusiast fire.

O bounteous Nature, 'tis thy healing womb
Alone can peace procure!

Thither all ye, the weary, laden, come,
From storms of life secure.

Anonymous Translation.

SUMMER

JUAN MELENDEZ VALDES, 1754-1917.

DREAM.

FROM THE GERMAN MINNESINGERS.

'Twas summer; through the spring grass
The joyous flowers upsprang;

The birds in all their different tribes
Loud in the woodlands sang:
Then forth I went, and wandered far
The wide, green meadow o'er-
Where cool and clear the fountain play'd-
There strayed I in that hour.

Roaming on, the nightingale
Sang sweetly in my ear;

And by the greenwood's shady side,
A dream came to me there.

Fast by the fountain, where bright flowers
Of sparkling hue we see;

Close sheltered from the summer heat,

That vision came to me.

All care was banished, and repose
Came o'er my wearied breast;
And kingdoms seemed to wait on me,
For I was with the blest.

Yet while it seemed as if away,

My spirit soared on high,

And in the boundless joys of heaven

Was rapp'd in ecstasy;

E'en then my body revel'd still

In earth's festivity;

And surely never was a dream

So sweet as this to me.

Thus I dreamed on, and might have dwelt
Still on that rapturous dream,

When hark! a raven's luckless note-
(Sooth 'twas a direful scream!)
Broke up the vision of delight.
Instant my joy was past;

O had a stone but met my hand,
That hour had been his last!

Translation of E. TAYLOR.

WALTHER VON DER VOGELWEIDE, about 1150.

SUMMER.

The spring's gay promise melted into thee,
Fair summer! and thy gentle reign is here;
The emerald robes are on each leafy tree;

In the blue sky thy voice is rich and clear;
And the free brooks have songs to bless thy reign-
They leap in music midst thy bright domain.

The gales that wander from the unclouded west
Are burden'd with the breath of countless fields;
They teem with incense from the green earth's breast,
That up to heaven its grateful odor yields,
Bearing sweet hymns of praise from many a bird,
By nature's aspect into rapture stirr❜d.

In such a scene the sun-illumin'd heart
Bounds like a prisoner in his narrow cell,
When through its bars the morning glories dart,
And forest anthems in his hearing swell;
And like the heaving of the voiceful sea,
His panting bosom labors to be free.

Thus, gazing on thy void and sapphire sky,
O summer! in my inmost soul arise
Uplifted thoughts, to which the woods reply,
And the bland air with its soft melodies;
Till basking in some vision's glorious ray,
I long for eagle's plumes to flee away.

I long to cast this cumbrous clay aside,

And the impure, unholy thoughts that cling
To the sad bosom, torn with care and pride;
I would soar upward, on unfetter'd wing,
Far through the chambers of the peaceful skies,
Where the high fount of summer brightness lies!

WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK, 1810-1841

PORTUGUESE CANZONET.

OF CAMOENS.

Flowers are fresh, and bushes green,

Cheerily the linnets sing;

Winds are soft, and skies serene;

Time, however, soon shall throw,
Winter's snow,

O'er the buxom breast of spring!

Hope that buds in lover's heart,

Lives not through the scorn of years;

Time makes love itself depart;

Time and scorn congeal the mind-
Looks unkind—

Freeze affection's warmest tears.

Time shall make the bushes green;
Time dissolve the winter snow;

Winds be soft, and skies serene;
Linnets sing their wonted strain.
But again,

Blighted love shall never blow!

Translated by VISCOUNT STRANGFORD.

LUIS DE CAMŌENS, 1524–1579.