The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vii Part 63

See, they're pleading: "May we ask you for the freedom to be free?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: NICOLAUS LENAU]

NIKOLAUS LENAU

PRAYER[15] (1832)

Eye of darkness, dim dominioned, Stay, enchant me with thy might, Earnest, gentle, dreamy-pinioned, Sweet, unfathomable night.

With magician's mantle cover All this day-world from my sight, That for aye thy form may hover O'er my being, lovely night.

SEDGE SONGS[16] (1832)

I

In the west the sun departing Leaves the weary day asleep, And the willows trail their streamers In these waters still and deep.

Flow, my bitter tears, flow ever; All I love I leave behind; Sadly whisper here the willows, And the reed shakes in the wind.

Into my deep lonely sufferings Tenderly you shine afar, As athwart these reeds and rushes Trembles soft yon evening star.

II

Oft at eve I love to saunter Where the sedge sighs drearily, By entangled hidden footpaths, Love! and then I think of thee.

When the woods gloom dark and darker, Sedges in the night-wind moan, Then a faint mysterious wailing Bids me weep, still weep alone.

And methinks I hear it wafted, Thy sweet voice, remote yet clear, Till thy song, descending slowly, Sinks into the silent mere.

III

Angry sunset sky, Thunder-clouds o'erhead, Every breeze doth fly, Sultry air and dead.

From the lurid storm Pallid lightnings break, Their swift transient form Flashes through the lake.

And I seem to see Thyself, wondrous nigh-- Streaming wild and free Thy long tresses fly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: EVENING ON THE Sh.o.r.e HANS AM ENDE]

SONGS BY THE LAKE[17] (1832)

I

In the sky the sun is failing, And the weary day would sleep, Here the willow fronds are trailing In the water still and deep.

From my darling I must sever: Stream, oh tears, stream forth amain!

In the breeze the rushes quiver And the willow sighs in pain.

On my soul in silence grieving Mild thou gleamest from afar, As through rushes interweaving Gleams the mirrored evening star.

IV

Sunset dull and drear; Dark the clouds drive past; Sultry, full of fear, All the winds fly fast.

Through the sky's wild rack Shoots the lightning pale; O'er the waters black Burns its flickering trail.

In the vivid glare Half I see thy form, And thy streaming hair Flutters in the storm.

V

On the lake as it reposes Dwells the moon with glow serene Interweaving pallid roses With the rushes' crown of green.

Stags from out the hillside bushes Gaze aloft into the night, Waterfowl amid the rushes Vaguely stir with flutterings light

Down my tear-dim glance I bend now, While through all my soul a rare Thrill of thought toward thee doth tend now Like an ecstasy of prayer.

THE POSTILION[18] (1833)

Pa.s.sing lovely was the night, Silver clouds flew o'er us, Spring, methought, with splendor dight Led the happy chorus.

Sleep-entranced lay wood and dale, Empty now each by-way; No one but the moonlight pale Roamed upon the highway.

Breezes wandering in the gloom Soft their footsteps numbered Through Dame Nature's sleeping-room Where her children slumbered.

Timidly the brook stole by, While the beds of blossom Breathed their perfume joyously On the still night's bosom.

My postilion, heedless all, Cracked his whip most gaily, And his merry trumpet-call Rang o'er hill and valley.

Hoofs beat steadily the while, As the horses gamboled, And along the shady aisle Spiritedly rambled.

Grove and meadow gliding past Vanished at a glimmer: Peaceful towns were gone as fast, Like to dreams that shimmer.

Midway in the Maytide trance Tombs were shining whitely; 'Twas the churchyard met our glance-- None might view it lightly.

Close against the mountain braced Ran the long white wall there, And the cross, in sorrow placed, Silent rose o'er all there.

Jehu straight, his humor spent, Left his tuneful courses; On the cross his gaze he bent Then pulled up his horses.

"Here's where horse and coach must wait-- You may think it odd, sir:-- But up yonder, lies my mate Underneath the sod, sir.