THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATH-SONG. Far from the breathings of changeful skies, 145 Where the day of the lightning and cloud is done, And joy reigns alone, as the lonely sun! THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATH-SONG. Willst du nach den Nachtigallen fragen, Die mit seelenvollen melodie Dich entzückten in des Lenzes Tagen? SCHILLER. MOURNFULLY, sing mournfully, The skies have lost their splendour, Where is the golden sunshine, And where the flower-cup's glow? A voice, in every whisper Of the wave, the bough, the air, And moaning, "Where, oh! where?" 13 Tell of the brightness parted, Thou bee, thou lamb at play! Mournfully, sing mournfully! Melt from the woods, my spirit, melt Not so, swell forth triumphantly, With sunshine, with sweet odour, Alone I shall not linger, When the days of hope are past, To watch the fall of leaf by leaf, To wait the rushing blast. Triumphantly, triumphantly! The glorious rose may blow. The sky's transparent azure, And the greensward's violet breath, And the dance of light leaves in the wind, May there know nought of death. THE DIVER. No more, no more sing mournfully! 147 THE DIVER. "They learn in suffering what they teach in song.' SHELLEY. THOU hast been where the rocks of coral grow, Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old, A wild and weary life is thine; Though treasure-grots for thee may shine, A weary life! but a swift decay Soon, soon shall set thee free; In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek, And bright in beauty's coronal None! as it gleams from the queen-like head, Not one 'midst throngs will say, "A life hath been like a rain-drop shed, Woe for the wealth thus dearly bought! Who win for earth the gems of thought? Down to the gulfs of the soul they go, Wringing from lava-veins the fire, But, oh! the price of bitter tears, Paid for the lonely power That throws at last o'er descrt years, A darkly glorious dower! Like flower-seeds, by the wild wind spread, -The soul whence those high gifts are shed, THE REQUIEM OF GENIUS. And who will think, when the strain is sung None, none!-his treasures live like thine, He strives and dies like thee; 149 -Thou, that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine, O wrestler with the sea! THE REQUIEM OF GENIUS. "Les poètes dont l'imagination tient à la puissance d'aimer et de souffrir, ne sont-ils pas les bannis d'une autre région?" MADAME DE STAEL- -De L'Allemagne. No tears for thee!-though light be from us gone They that have loved an exile, must not mourn O'er the dark sea. All the high music of thy spirit here, And strange, though sweet, as 'midst our weeping skies Some half-remember'd strain of paradise Might sadly sound. 13* |