BLESSED ARE THE DEAD. O, HOW blest are ye whose toils are ended! From the cares which keep us still in prison. We are still as in a dungeon living, Still oppressed with sorrow and misgiving; Are but toils, and troubles, and heart-breakings. Ye, meanwhile, are in your chambers sleeping, Hinders your enjoyments with denial. Christ has wiped away your tears for ever; Songs which yet no mortal ear have haunted. Ah! who would not, then, depart with gladness, Who here would languish Longer in bewailing and in anguish ? Come, O Christ, and loose the chains that bind us! THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM MÜLLER. "THE rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; "The clouds are passing far and high, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence "Full and swollen is every sail; I have trusted all to the sounding gale, "And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? With merry companions all." "I need not and seek not company, "High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice. "Who neither may rest, nor listen may, I dart away, in the bright blue day, "Thus do I sing my weary song, Wherever the four winds blow; THE HAPPIEST LAND. FRAGMENT OF A MODERN GERMAN BALLAD. THERE sat one day in quiet, By an alehouse on the Rhine, The landlord's daughter filled their cups But, when the maid departed, A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "Long live the Swabian land! "The greatest kingdom upon earth Cannot with that compare; *Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing,— THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. FROM UHLAND. "Hast thou seen that lordly castle, "And fain it would stoop downward "Well have I seen that castle, "The winds and the waves of ocean, The harp and the minstrel's rhyme ?” "The winds and the waves of ocean, "And sawest thou on the turrets "Led they not forth, in rapture, "Well saw I the ancient parents; woe, No maiden was by their side!" WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONGS. FROM GOETHE. I. THOU that from the heaven's art, Come, ah, come into my breast! II. O'er all the hill-tops Is quiet now, In all the tree-tops Hardly a breath; The birds are asleep in the trees. Wait; soon like these Thou too shalt rest. |