There the tailor blows the flute, And the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle Over mountain-gorge and bourn." And then the landlord's daughter And said, THE WAVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave? "I am the Wave of Life, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time." THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. How they so softly rest, All, all the holy dead, Now doth my soul draw near! And they no longer weep, Here, where complaint is still! And they no longer feel, Here, where all gladness flies! And, by the cypresses Softly o'ershadowed, Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber! THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLer. "THE rivers rush into the sea, The clouds are passing far and high, I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?"— "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land. Full and swollen is every sail; I see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale, And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all." "I need not and seek not company, Bonny boat, I can sing all alone; High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, Who neither may rest, nor listen may, I dart away, in the bright blue day, Thus do I sing my weary song, And this same song, my whole life long, WHITHER? FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER. I HEARD a brooklet gushing I know not what came o'er me, Thou hast, with thy soft murmur, Murmured my senses away. What do I say of a murmur? That can no murmur be; "Tis the water-nymphs, that are singing Their roundelays under me. Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur, And wander merrily near; The wheels of a mill are going |