III.
There stands the ancient gabled house;
The rooms therein how well I know!
They’re still as once they were, when first
I loved there, long ago.
But, like the moon, times change, and hearts,
And strangers now the dwelling claim;
Another passion fills my breast;
Yet is the house the same.
Today I went there to the feast;
Some memory made my bosom stir,
I heeded not the song and jest,
I only thought of her,—
Of all that we had meant to be,
Of all my vanisht youthful years,
And of the love that filled her eyes,—
Till mine o’erflowed with tears.
And when I roused me from the thought,
Alas, how changed did all things seem!
As though that dream had been my life,
And all my life a dream.
Longing.
FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.
(“Ach, aus dieses Thales Gründen.”)
From the shadows of the valley
With the chilly mist opprest,
Might I only find the outlet
I should count myself as blest.
There uprise the sunny mountains
Green and young and fair to see,
Had I wings to lift me upward,
To the mountains I would flee.
Melodies are sweetly chiming,
I can catch the heavenly notes,
And a balmy flower fragrance
On the light breeze downward floats.
Golden fruits are shining, glowing,
Through the leafage, darkly green,
And the flowers that there are blowing
Winter’s snows have never seen.
Ah, how blissful must the life be
In that sunshine without night;
Ah, how soft and how refreshing
Is the air that crowns that height!
Yet the stormy river stays me
That between us roars of death;
And its ghastly waves are lifted
Till my spirit shuddereth.
There a bark all lonely tosses
Without steersman, on the tide;
Leap into it, bold, untrembling,
Sure some fate its sails will guide!
Thou must trust, and thou must venture,
For the gods will lend no hand;
Nothing but a wonder lifts thee
To thy golden Wonderland.
