"Well saw I the ancient parents, Without the crown of pride; They were moving slow, in weeds of woe, THE BLACK KNIGHT FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND WAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sadness. Thus began the King and spake : "So from the halls Of ancient Hof burg's walls, A luxuriant Spring shall break." Drums and trumpets echo loudly, In the play of spears, Fell all the cavaliers, Before the monarch's stalwart son. To the barrier of the fight Rode at last a sable Knight. "Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!' "Should I speak it here, Ye would stand aghast with fear; When he rode into the lists, The arch of heaven grew black with mists, And the castle 'gan to rock; At the first blow, Fell the youth from saddle-bow, Pipe and viol call the dances, With manner bland Doth ask the maiden's hand, Doth with her the dance begin; Danced in sable iron sark, Danced a measure weird and dark, Coldly clasped her limbs around; From breast and hair Down fall from her the fair Flowerets, faded, to the ground. To the sumptuous banquet came 'Twixt son and daughter all distraught, With mournful mind The ancient King reclined, Gazed at them in silent thought. Pale the children both did look, But the guest a beaker took : "Golden wine will make you whole!" The children drank, Gave many a courteous thank : "O, that draught was very cool!" Each the father's breast embraces, Looks the fear-struck father gray, "Woe! the blessed children both Takest thou in the joy of youth; Take me, too, the joyless father!" Spake the grim Guest, From his hollow, cavernous breast: "Roses in the spring I gather ! " SONG OF THE SILENT LAND FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS INTO the Silent Land us thither? who shall lead us Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. Who leads us with a gentle hand Thither, O thither, Into the Silent Land? Into the Silent Land! To you, ye boundless regions Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band! Who in Life's battle firm doth stand, Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms Into the Silent Land! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand To the land of the great Departed, Υ L'ENVOI voices, that arose YEAfter the Evening's close, And whispered to my restless heart repose! Go, breathe it in the ear Of all who doubt and fear, And say to them, "Be of good cheer!" Ye sounds, so low and calm, That in the groves of balm Seemed to me like an angel's psalm! Go, mingle yet once more With the perpetual roar Of the pine forest, dark and hoar! Tongues of the dead, not lost, Glimmer, as funeral lamps, Of the vast plain where Death encamps! |